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m. 


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OF 


^j  ZNQUZR7  OBT  ZmSSIOBTS^  | 


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(J) 

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AND 


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4     the  state  of  religion.     ^ 

(H 


LIBR-A.RY 

OF 

THE 

1 

Theologica 

1  s 

e  m  i  n  a  r  y , 

PRINCETON, 

N.J. 

C«.<fe,. 

SSL. 

'/]L 

1 

,aio 

Section /..(p..   

J?ooA, 

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.3.L-. 

^  ^^ 


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r-. 


•«  K»     • 


«        • 


V     1 


•<^, 


TOUR  IN  GERMANY, 


AND    SOME    OF 


THE   SOUTHERN  PROVINCES 


OF   THE 


AUSTRIAN  EMPIRE, 


IN   THE   TEARS 


ISaO,  1821,  1822. 


B¥  JOHN  RUSSELL,  Esci. 


REPRINTED    FROM    THE 


BOSTON: 

WELLS    AND    LILLY — COURT    STREET. 

1825. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 


The  East  of  France 
Alsace         .  .         . 

StRAS BURGH  .... 

French  and  German  Cookery 

The  Cathedral 

The  Monument  of  Marshal  Saxe 

The  passage  of  the  Rhine 
The  Plain  of  the  Rhine 

German  Stage  Coaches 

Grand  Ducal  Family  of  Baden 
Carlsruhe 
Manheim 

Sand 
Heidelberg 
Darmstadt 
Frankfort 

The  Fair 

The  City 

The  Arts 

The  Jews 

The  Germanic  Confederation 
Seligenstadt        .... 


Pa»e 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

9 

10 

11 

13 

15 

16 

17 

19 

20 

21 

21 

22 

24 

25 

28 

32 


CHAPTER  II. 


The  Thuringian  Forest 
Weimar 

The  Grand  Duke 

Literature 

Wieland 

Schiller 

Gothe 

The  Drama 

Character  of  the  People 

The  Grand  Duchess 

Amusements 


34 
35 
37 
38 

42 
43 
47 
52 
54 
55 
«1 


IV 


CONTENTS. 


Weimar  [continued) 

Political  Conduct  of  the  Grand  Duke 
Constitution  of  the  Parliament  of  the  Grand  Duchy- 
Its  Spirit  and  Proceedings  .... 

The  Press         ....... 

State  of  Political  Feeling  in  Weimar 

Influence  of  the  Small  German  States         .         t 

CHAPTER  III. 

General  Character  of  the  German  Universities 
Jena  ....... 

The  Battle  

The  University — Its  Constitution 

Emoluments  of  the  Professors 

Public  and  Private  Lectures 

Division  of  a  Subject  into  Different  Courses 

Additional  Occupations  of  the  Juridical  Faculty 

The  Mode  of  Teaching 
The  Students — Their  Evening  Carousals 

Their  Songs      ...... 

The  Landsmannschaften,  or  Secret  Associations 

Duels 

Behaviour  of  the  Students  to  the  Townsmen 

The  Burschenschaft  .... 

Academical  Liberty  .... 

Academical  Jurisdiction  and  Discipline 

Bursaries  ...... 

Decline  of  Jena^  and  its  Causes 

Dismissal  of  Professor  Oken 

Professors  Luden  and  Kotzebue 


PAGE 

62 
64 
68 
70 
72 
74 


76 

77 

78 

78 

80 

81 

84 

88 

90 

90 

93 

96 

105 

107 

108 

111 

114 

118 

120 

121 

123 


CHAPTER  IV. 


Rural  Population  of  Weimar 
Weissenfels 

Dr.  Mullner      . 

LUTZEN  .... 

Leipzig — The  City 

The  Arts 

The  Book-Trade       . 

Piratical  Publishers 

Mr.  Brockhaus 
The  Elbe 
Dresden — The  City 

The  Royal  Family 

The  Churches 

Music 

The  Monument  of  Moreau 

The  Saxon  Switzerland  c 


127 
128 
128 
130 
132 
133 
134 
136 
138 
140 
140 
144 
147 
149 
151 
151 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Dresden  (^continued) 

The  Picture  Gallery 
The  Collection  of  Copperplates 
*"     Sculpture  .... 

The  Green  Vault      . 
The  Armoury 

Literature  and  the  Language     . 
Administration  of  Criminal  Justice 
Constitution  of  the  Government 

CHAPTER  VI. 


Erfurth      

Luther's  Cell 

Ursuline  Convent 
GOTHA  .  .  .  . 

Eisenach      .,,,,. 
Hesse  Cassel       ..... 

Westphalian  Peasantry      .         , 
Cassel 

King  Jerome 

The  late  Elector 

Wilhelmshohe 

The  Arts         .... 

CHAPTER  Vn. 

Gottingen 

Competition  among  the  Professors 

Professor  Blumenbach 

Scientific  Collections 

The  Library     . 

The  Widows'  Fund 

Hospitals 

Prosperity  of  Gottingen 

Expenditure  of  the  Students 

General  Character  of  the  University 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

Kingdom  of  Hanover  .         .         .         . 

Forest  Laws      .         .         .         .         . 

Wood-Thieves  .         .         .         . 

The  Peasantry  .         .         .         . 

The  Magistracy  of  the  Small  Towns 
Hanover     ....... 

The  Theatre  .         .         .         . 

Easter  Festivities      .        .        .         . 

Leibnitz  


PAGE 

156 
168 
168 
169 
170 
171 
173 
179 


182 
183 
184 
187 
187 
189 
190 
192 
193 
195 
197 
199 


202 
203 
205 
207 
208 
210 
211 
212 
214 
217 


219 
220 
220 
221 
222 
223 
224 
225 
226 


Vi                                   '                    CONTENTS. 

Hanover  (continued) 

PAGE 

The  Library 

.     226 

Pictures              ....... 

.     228 

National  Character            .... 

.     228 

The  Estates 

.     231 

Relation  of  Hanover  to  England 

.     235 

CHAPTER  IX. 

Roads  in  the  North  of  Hanover 

.     236 

BrUxVSVVICK                ....... 

.     237 

The  Burial  Vault  of  the  Family  of  Brunswick 

.     237 

The  Museum             ..... 

.     238 

Magdeburgh          ........ 

.     240 

Roads 

.     240 

Potsdam       ........ 

.     241 

Sans  Souci         ...... 

.     242 

The  Picture  Gallery         .... 

.     244 

Berlin— The  City 

.     247 

The  Spree 

.     251 

Architecture      ...... 

.     253 

The  Drama 

.     255 

Music        ....... 

.     255 

Sculpture          ....... 

.     257 

Iron  Manufacture       ..... 

.     260 

The  Thiergarten      ..... 

.     261 

Charlottenburgh        ..... 

.     262 

The  late  Queen  of  Prussia        .         .         .         , 

.     263 

The  King         .         .         .         . 

.     268 

The  Crown  Prince            .... 

.     272 

CHAPTER  X. 

Berlin  (^continued) 

The  Aristocracy 

.     274 

The  Lower  Orders            .... 

.     277 

The  War 

.     278 

The  University         ..... 

.     281 

Profe.ssor  Wolffe        ...... 

.     284 

The  Press 

.     287 

The  Administration  of  Justice 

.     291 

The  Government        ...... 

.     302 

Stein         ........ 

.     303 

The  late  Chancellor,  Prince  Hardenberg 

.     303 

Reforms  of  the  Government  in  the  Agricultural 

Population      ...... 

.     304 

in  the  Towns 

.     311 

Effect  of  these  Changes  on  the  Political  Prospects 
of  Prussia      .         .         .  .         . 


314 


CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XL 

Frankfort  on  the  Oder     . 

The  Oder         .... 

Cemeteries        .... 

Crossen — Vineyards    .... 

Silesia         ...... 

BUNZLAU        ...... 

Monument  of  Prince  Kutusoff  . 

HiRSCHBERG  ..... 

The  Silesian  Linen  Manufacture 

Mineral  Springs 

Wolkenbruche  and  Tliunder  Storms 

The  River  Zacken 

The  Kienast     .... 

Ascent  of  the  Schneekoppe 

Adersbach  

County  of  Glatz         .... 

Colonization  of  Silesia 
Cracow       ...... 

Jews         ..... 

The  Cathedral 

Monuments  of  Polish  Kings 

The  Weichselzopf 

The  Salt  Mines  of  Wieliczka 
Moravia      ...... 

First  Sight  of  Vienna 


Vll 


PAGE 

318 
318 
319 
320 
321 
322 
323 
323 
324 
329 
330 
331 
333 
335 
339 
341 
342 
344 
344 
345 
347 
348 
353 
358 
359 


CHAPTER  XIL 


Vienna 


The  City 
Architecture     . 
Squares  and  Fountains 
Statue  of  Joseph  U. 
Canova's  Monument  of  the 

Theseus     . 

Churches 

The  Basteyen  (the  Ramparts) 

The  Suburbs 

The  Prater 


Archduchess  Christina 


359 
360 
365 
366 
369 
370 
372 
374 
376 
378 
379 


CHAPTER  XIIL 

Vienna  (^continued) 

Manners — Mixture  of  Character  in  the  Population 
Theatres,  and  the  Drama 
Music 


381 
383 
389 


VUl 


CONTENTS. 


Vienna  (continued) 

Beethoven        ...... 

Looseness  of  Principle      .... 

Fondness  for  Titles  .... 

Religion 

The  New  Religious  Order — Father  Werner 
Pilgrimages      ...... 

The  Government^  its  General  Spirit 

The  Police 

The  Press 

The  Imperial  Family         .... 

The  Emperor 

Prince  Metternich 

The  Aristocracy        ..... 
State  of  Political  Feeling  in  Ausjtria 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

Baden  ....... 

Mineral  Springs,  and  Mode  of  Bathing 

Valley  of  St.  Helena 
Heiligen  Kreuz 

LiLIENFELD 

The  Annaberg 

Pilgrims  to  Mariazell 
Upper  Styria — Mariazell 

The  Mur 

Bruck 

Gratz 
Lower  Styria 

The  Winden 
Carniola — Laybach 

Mines  of  Idria 

The  Peasantry 

Planina 

Lake  of  Zirknitz 

The  Proteus  Anguinus 

Adelsberg 

The  Karst 


PAGE 

.  392 

.  395 

.  399 

.  400 

.  401 

.  404 

.  405 

.  406 

.  410 

.  413 

.  413 

.  415 

.  419 

.  421 


423 

424 

425 

426 

427 

429 

430 

432 

435 

436 

437 

438 

439 

440 

441 

452 

455 

458 

461 

463 

468 


&c. 


CHAPTER  I. 


STRASBURGH — THE   PLAIN    OF   THE   RHINE— FRANKFORT. 

Im  niedersteigen  strahlen 

Soil  umher  der  Freudenschein, 
In  des  Neckars  Reben-thalen, 

Und  am  silberblauen  Main. 

The  prejudices  of  English  travellers  in  favour  of  their 
own  country  are  now  proverbial,  and  have  often  ex- 
posed them  to  ridicule,  sometimes  to  reproach.  But 
if  even  the  gaieties  and  novelties  of  Paris  fail  to  re- 
move this  feeling  of  national  superiority,  every  one  is 
entitled  to  a  plenary  indulgence  for  railing,  who  has 
made  a  long  journey  in  winter  through  the  east  of 
France.  From  Paris  to  Strasburgh,  even  the  pro- 
fessed hunter  of  curiosities  would  find  little  to  reward 
his  pursuit,  and  the  mere  passing  traveller,  who  is 
hastening  to  a  certain  point,  finds  nothing  at  all.  The 
tame  banks  of  the  Marne,  which  the  road  accom- 
panies in  long,  stiff  stretches,  as  far  as  Chalons,  give 
no  relief  to  the  dreariness  of  the  scene  ;  the  fortifica- 
tions of  Metz  are  Interesting  only  to  the  engineer;  and, 
in  the  open  country,  the  difference  between  a  French  and 
an  English  landscape  is  felt  at  once.  The  want  of  in- 
closures  Is  a  hackneyed  topic  of  remark  and  dispute ; 
and,  though  nothing  is  more  impossible  than  to  con- 
vince a  Frenchman  that  he  or  his  country  ever  has 
blundered,  or  ever  can  blunder,  we  may  be  allowed  t& 
1 


2  ALSACE. 

prefer  our  own  still  life,  and  to  believe  that  hedge&v 
co|)sewood,  and  plantations,  are  comfortable  things 
even  in  winter.  Bat  it  is  in  the  appearance,  or  rather 
in  the  disappearance,  of  the  population,  that  the  dif- 
ference is  most  striking.  In  a  well  cultivated  part  of 
Eijgland,  even  the  winter  landscape  is  not  entirely 
desolate.  Everywhere  the  smoke  of  the  farm-house 
rises;  the  merry  inmates  are,  at  least,  heard  from 
witfiin;  at  every  turn  one  comes  across  a  sportsman 
and  his  dog;  the  seats  of  the  gentry  are  more  blithe 
and  bustling  than  ever;  to  say  nothing  of  the  resolu- 
tion with  which  stage-coaches,  and  stage-coach  travel- 
leis,  hold  out  against  the  worst  that  winter  can  do. 
All  ^iruund  are  sounds  and  sights  of  human  industry, 
or  hu^nan  enjojmeiit.  In  France,  man  seems  to  be  as 
dead  as  nature.  The  traveller  looks  out  over  an  end- 
less, dreary  extent  of  brown  soil,  seldom  varied  by  the 
meanest  cottage.  The  country  population  is  drawn 
together  in  the  villages,  and  these  villages  must  be 
sought  for  to  discover  that  the  country  is  inhabited. 
It  would  seem  that  even  the  peasant  cannot  endure 
the  comparative  solitude  of  an  English  farmer's  life. 
Like  his  brethren  of  Paris,  he  must  have  the  plea- 
sures of  society. 

On  approaching  Alsace,  the  character  of  the  coun- 
try rapidly  changes.  It  becomes  hilly,  precipitous, 
and  romantic,  rising  into  a  branch  of  the  lofty  ridge 
^vhich  flanks  the  left  bank  of  the  Rhine,  nearly  from 
the  frontiers  of  Switzerland  to  the  mouth  of  the  Mo- 
selle. The  luxuriant  plain  of  the  Rhine,  with  its 
numberless  towns  and  villages,  is  occasionally  seen 
below  through  the  apertures  of  the  ridge.  The  river 
itself  is  too  deeply  sunk  to  be  visible.  As  if  this 
"  Father  of  wine,"  as  the  Germans  fondly  style  him, 
would  suffer  nothing  but  the  grape  in  his  vicinity,  the 
vineyards  reappear  so  soon  as  the  mountain  begins  to 
sink  down  in  more  gentle  slopes.  On  this  side  of  the 
Alps,  however,  a  bare  field  is,  in  winter,  a  more  pleas- 


STRASBURGH.  a 

ing  object  than  a  vineyard.  The  vines  either  die,  or 
are  intentionally  cut  down,  nearly  to  the  ground.  If 
the  poles  which  supported  them  are  removed,  as  they 
generally  are,  the  vineyard  becomes  a  field  of  bare, 
black  stumps;  if  they  are  allowed  to  remain,  it  be- 
comes a  field  of  stilF,  straight  poles,  marshalled  in  re- 
gular array.  Even  in  summer  and  autumn,  these  vine- 
yards add  less  to  the  beauty  of  a  landscape  than  many 
other  species  of  verdure.  The  vines,  having  reached 
in  their  growth  the  top  of  the  stakes  along  which 
they  are  trained,  curl  downwards  ;  they  are  ranged  in 
parallel  lines  ;  the  clusters  avoid  the  eye,  and  lurk 
beneath  the  leaves.  All  the  beauty  that  such  a  vine- 
yard gives  to  the  scene  consists  merely  in  the  mantle 
of  deep  verdure  with  which  it  clothes  the  soft  and 
sunny  slopes  of  the  hills,  a  merit  not  at  all  of  rare  oc- 
currence, even  in  countries  where  the  grape  never 
ripened.  When  near,  the  vineyard  is  in  itself  inferior 
to  a  hop  plantation,  which  is  the  very  same  tiling  in 
kind,  with  more  body  and  stateliness ;  in  the  distance, 
it  is  no  greater  ornament  than  a  field  of  prosperous 
turnips  would  be.  But  our  northern  imaginations, 
warming  at  the  idea  of  the  vine,  just  as  our  blood 
glows  with  its  juice,  bestow  on  every  garden  of  Bac- 
chus the  beauties  of  Eden. 

Strasburgh  itself  is  an  irregular,  old-fashioned, 
heavy-looking  town,  most  inconveniently  intersected 
by  muddy  streams  and  canals,  and  full  of  soldiers  and 
customhouse-officers  ;  for  it  has  the  double  misfortune 
of  being  at  once  a  frontier  trading  town,  and  an  im- 
portant frontier  fortification.  The  appearance  of  the 
inhabitants,  and  the  mixture  of  tongues,  announce  at 
once  that  the  Rhine  was  not  always  the  boundary  of 
France.  Nearly  two  centuries  have  been  insufficient 
to  eradicate  the  diffisrence  of  descent,  and  manners, 
and  language.  .  The  situation  of  the  town,  more  than 
any  thing  else,  has  tended  to  keep  these  peculiarities 
alive,  and  prevent  French  manners  from  establishing, 


4  STRASBURGH. 

even  in  a  French  city,  that  intolerant  despotism  which 
they  have  often  introduced  into  foreign  capitals.  As 
it  is  the  centre  of  the  mercantile  intercourse  which 
France  maintains  with  Swabia,  Wirtemberg,  great 
part  of  Baden,  and  the  north  of  Switzerland,  the  Ger- 
man part  of  the  population  has  always  among  them 
too  many  of  their  kindred  to  forget  that  they  them- 
selves were  once  subjects  of  the  Holy  Roman  Em- 
pire, or  to  give  up  their  own  modes  of  speaking,  and 
dressing,  and  eating.  The  stolid  Swabian  and  serious 
Swiss  drover  are  deaf  to  the  charms  of  the  universal 
language  and  kitchen.  At  Strasburgh  you  may  dine 
on  dishes  as  impenetrably  disguised,  or  languish  over  ew- 
tremets  as  nearly  refined  away  to  nothing,  as  at  the 
tables  of  the  great  Parisian  rivals,  Very  and  Vefours; 
or,  on  the  other  side  of  the  street,  for  half  the  money, 
you  may  have  more  German  fat,  plain  boiled  beef,  and 
sour  cabbage.  The  German  kitchen  is  essentially  a 
plain,  solid,  greasy  kitchen  ;  it  has  often  by  far  too 
much  of  the  last  quality.  People  of  rank,  indeed,  in 
the  great  capitals,  are  as  mad  on  French  cookery  as 
the  most  delicate  of  their  equals  in  London ;  but  the 
national  cookery,  in  its  general  character,  is  the  very 
reverse  of  that  of  France  ;  and  it  is  by  no  means  cer- 
tain that  the  national  cookery  of  a  people  may  not 
have  some  connection  with  its  national  character. 
The  German  justly  prides  himself  on  the  total  ab- 
sence of  parade,  on  the  openness,  plainness,  and  sin- 
cerity which  mark  his  character;  accordingly,  he  boils 
his  beef,  and  roasts  his  mutton  and  fowls,  just  as  they 
come  from  the  hands  of  the  butcher  and  the  poul- 
terer. If  a  gourmand  of  Vienna  stuff  his  Styrian 
capon  with  truffles,  this  is  an  unwonted  tribute  to  deli- 
cacy of  palate.  French  cookery,  again,  really  seems 
to  be  merely  a  product  of  the  vanity  and  parade  which 
are  inseparable  from  the  French  character.  Culinary 
accomplishments  are,  to  the  dinner  of  a  Parisian,  just 
what  sentiment  is  to  his  conversation.     They  are  both 


THE   CATHEDRAL.  5 

substitutes  for  the  solid  beef  and  solid  feelinfi:  which 
either  are  not  there  at  all,  or,  if  they  be  there,  are 
intended  for  no  other  purpose  than  to  give  a  name. 
INo  one  portion  of  God's  creatures  is  reckoned  fit  for 
a  Frenchman's  dinner  till  he  himself  has  improved  it 
beyond  all  possibility  of  recognition.  His  cookery 
seems  to  proceed  on  the  very  same  principle  on  which 
his  countrymen  laboured  to  improve  Raphael's  pic- 
tures, viz.  that  there  is  nothing  in  nature  or  art  so 
good,  but  he  can  make  it  better. 

The  far-famed  cathedral  is,  in  some  respects,  the 
finest  Gothic  building  in  Europe.  There  are  many 
which  are  more  ample  in  dimensions.  In  the  solemn 
imposing  grandeur  to  which  the  lofty  elevations 
and  dim  colonnades  of  this  architecture  are  so  well 
adapted,  the  cathedral  of  Milan  acknowledges  no 
rival ;  and  not  onlv  in  some  German  towns,  as  in 
Niirnberg,  but  likewise  among  the  Gothic  remains  of 
our  own  country  and  of  Normandy,  it  would  not  be 
difficult  to  find  samples  of  workmanship  equally  light 
and  elegant  in  the  detail  with  the  boasted  fane  of 
Strasburgh.  Certainly,  however,  nothing  can  surpass 
it.  The  main  body  of  the  building  is  put  together 
with  an  admirable  symmetry  of  proportion ;  and  to 
this  it  is  indebted  for  its  principal  beauty  as  a  whole. 
Connoisseurs,  indeed,  have  measured  and  criticised ; 
they  have  found  this  too  long,  and  that  too  short :  but 
architectural  beauty  is  made  for  the  eye ;  and,  even 
in  classical  architecture,  where  all  has  been  reduced 
to  measurement,  the  rules  of  Vitruvius  or  Palladio  are 
good  only  as  expressing  in  the  language  of  art  judg- 
ments which  taste  forms  independent  of  rules.  The 
harmony  of  proportions,  and  the  elegance  of  the  work- 
manship, appear  to  still  greater  advantage  in  the  spire, 
Avhose  pinnacle  is  more  than  five  hundred  feet  above 
the  pavement,  and  whose  mere  elevation  forms,  in  the 
eyes  of  most  people,  the  only  good  thing  about  the 
cathedral.     It  has   nothing   uncommon   in  its  general 


6  STRASBURGH. 

form.  The  massive  base  terminates  just  at  the  point 
-where,  to  the  cje,  it  would  become  too  heavy  for  the 
elevation;  and  it  is  succeeded  by  the  lofty  slender 
pyramid,  so  delicately  ribbed  that  it  hardly  seems  to 
be  supported,  and  bearing,  almost  to  its  pinnacle,  the 
prolusion  of  Gothic  ornament.  Yet  there  is  no  super- 
fluity or  confusion  of  ornament  about  the  edifice; 
there  is  no  crowding  of  figure  upon  figure,  merely  for 
the  sake  of  having  sculpture.  With  more,  it  would 
have  approached  the  tawdry  and  puerile  style  of  the 
present  day;  with  less,  it  would  have  been  as  dead 
and  heavy  as  the  cathedral  of  Ulm,  which,  though  ex- 
quisite in  particular  details  of  the  sculpture,  yet,  with- 
oul  being  more  imposing,  wants  all  the  grace  and  ele- 
gance of  the  fabric  of  Strasburgh.  Few  things  in  art 
seem  so  unwilling  to  submit  themselves  to  good  taste 
as  the  ornaments  of  Gothic  architecture.  How  many 
imagine  that  they  constitute  the  essential  part  of  it  ; 
that  they  are  handsome  things  in  themselves,  (which, 
in  an  hundred  instances,  they  are  not,)  and,  therefore, 
the  more  of  a  good  thing  the  better  ;  without  regard- 
ing any  ulterior  object,  or  suspecting  that  these  have, 
or  ought  to  have,  some  determinate  relation  to  plan 
and  proportion.  In  every  town  we  ourselves  have 
things  which  we  facetiously  denominate  Gothic  chapels, 
because  they  arc  covered  with  little  pinnacles,  and 
small  curves,  and  are  full  of  holes.  The  Gothic  in 
small  is  fit  only  for  the  pastry-cook,  or  the  toy-shop. 

The  church  of  St.  Thomas,  wdiich  is  still  devoted  to 
the  Protestant  worship,  contains  the  uionument  erected 
by  Louis  XV.  to  Marshal  Saxe.  It  is  the  most  cele- 
brated  production  of  Pigalle,  and  is  a  very  fair  specimen 
of  the  style  of  the  French  artists  of  the  last  century, 
in  wliich  Roubilliac  has  left  us  so  many  works  marked 
with  all  its  beauties  and  all  its  defects.  The  back- 
ground of  the  whole  is  a  tall  and  broad  pyramid  of 
grey  marble,  set  against  the  wall  of  the  church.  The 
pyramid  terminates  below  in  a  few  steps,  on  the  lowest 


SCULPTURE.  r 

of  which  rests  a  sarcophagus.  The  Marshal  Is  in  the 
act  of  descending  the  steps  towards  the  tomb.  On 
the  right,  the  symbohcal  animals  of  England,  Holland, 
and  Austria,  are  flving  from  him  in  dismay;  on  the 
left,  the  banner  of  France  is  floating  in  triumph.  The 
warrior's  eve  is  fixed  with  an  expression  of  tranquil 
contempt  on  a  figure  of  Death  standing  below,  thrust- 
ing out  his  raw  head  and  bony  arms  from  beneath  a 
shroud,  holding  up  to  the  Marshal  in  one  hand  an  hour- 
glass in  which  the  sand  has  run  out,  and,  with  the 
other,  opening  the  sarcophagus  to  receive  him.  A  fe- 
male figure,  representing  France,  throws  herself  be- 
tween them,  exerting  herself  at  once  to  hold  back  the 
Marshal,  and  push  away  Death.  On  one  side  of  the 
whole,  a  genius,  according  to  the  most  approved  recipe 
for  monument  making,  weeps  over  the  inverted  torch, 
and,  on  the  other,  Hercules  leans  pouting  on  his  club. 
All  is  in  marble,  and  large  as  the  life.  The  individual 
figures  are  of  moderate  merit;  they  are  full  of  that 
exaggeration  of  feature  and  attitude  of  which  the 
French  artists  have  never  yet  got  rid  ;  but  the  first 
impression  of  the  whole  composition  is  extremely 
striking,  though  the  style  is  not  sufficiently  pure  to 
make  the  impression  lasting.  It  dazzles  at  first,  and 
immediately  fatigues. 

The  figure  of  the  Marshal  himself  has  often  been 
adduced  as  an  example,  to  prove  that  sculpture  can 
deal  as  advantageously  with  the  tight  fantastic  gar- 
ments of  modern  times  as  with  the  loose  drapery  of 
antiquity  ;  but  who  can  look  at  Marshal  Saxe  as 
he  stands  here,  without  wishing  that  the  paludamen- 
Uim  occupied  the  place  of  the  coat  and  waistcoat  ? 
There  may  be  much  industry,  and  much  skill  of  manipu- 
lation, in  hewing  out  accurately  buttons  and  button-holes, 
laces,  and  ruffles  ;  but  this  is  a  merit  of  which  no  sta- 
tuary, who  knows  the  true  province  and  feels  the  true 
dignity  of  his  art,  will  boast;  for  it  lies  in  a  species  of  imi- 
tation  which   requires  manual   dexterity  rather  than 


8  STRASBURGH. 

genius,  and  has  more  in  common  with  the  carving  of 
Dutch  toys  than  with  the  divine  art,  whose  proudest 
triumphs  are  achieved  in  creating  human  forms.  Mea- 
sured by  such  a  standard,  old  General  Ziethen,  who, 
with  other  heroes  of  the  Seven  Years'  War,  frowns 
on  the  Wilhelms-Platz  of  Berlin  in  a  hussar  uniform 
wrought  out  in  the  most  laborious  and  precise  detail, 
would  be,  what  many  a  Prussian  holds  it  to  be,  the 
finest  statue  in  the  world.  It  is  the  business  of  sculp- 
ture to  represent  the  human  form,  and  every  mode  of 
dress,  whether  ancient  or  modern,  is  an  obstacle  in 
her  way.  But  custom  and  propriety,  which  frequent- 
ly compelled  the  ancient  artists  to  adopt  a  covering, 
are  still  more  tyrannical  towards  their  modern  follow- 
ers. A  naked  Cicero  would  have  been  as  little  proper 
as  a  corsetted  Venus,  and  a  naked  statesman  or  field- 
marshal  of  our  own  age  would  be  more  incongruous 
than  either.  Where  dress,  then,  is  unavoidable,  the 
question  seems  just  to  be,  what  mode  of  attire  trenches 
least  on  the  peculiar  province  of  the  sculptor,  and  is 
most  susceptible  in  itself  of  being  worked  into  graceful 
forms?  JNow,  the  free  and  flowing  dress  of  Athens 
or  Rome  was  not  only  more  graceful  and  noble  in  itself 
than  the  sharp  angles,  the  stiif  lines,  the  numerous 
joinings  of  our  multifarious  habiliments,  but,  in  the 
hands  of  the  sculptor,  it  was  pliant  as  wax,  to  be 
moulded  into  any  form  which  beauty  or  dignity  might 
require.  But  the  artist  who  is  to  clothe  a  statue  in  a 
modern  dress,  has  to  work  on  much  less  manageable 
materials.  His  audacious  hand  must  attempt  no  inno- 
vation on  the  received  forms  of  buckram  and  broad 
cloth.  In  the  drapery  of  his  statue,  if  such  an  abuse 
of  words  may  be  tolerated,  he  must  turn  taste  and 
genius  out  of  doors,  and  work  according  to  the  mea- 
sures of  some  tailor  of  reputation.^ 

*  In  few  modern  statues  has  the  difficulty  been  so  successfully 
surmounted  as  in  Chantry's  beautiful  statue  of  the  late  Mr  Horner. 


THE  RHINE.  9 

Beyond  the  fortifications,  there  is  still  about  a  mile 
to  the  bank  of  the  Rhine.  The  wooden  bridge  thrown 
across  the  river,  though  less  ingeniously  combined  than 
the  destroyed  one  of  Constance,  used  to  be  reckoned 
the  most  stately  structure  of  the  kind  in  Europe.  It 
is  now  useless.  In  the  campaigns  which  conducted 
the  allies  to  Paris,  great  part  of  the  bridge  towards 
the  German  side  was  cut  away,  and  has  not  yet  been 
repaired.  The  communication  is  kept  up  by  a  bridge 
floated  on  boats,  a  little  farther  down  the  stream. 
This  is  reckoned  altogether  a  more  commodious  struc- 
ture. When  the  ice  breaks  up,  part  of  the  boats  are 
cut  away  to  give  it  free  passage ;  and  though  the  com- 
munication be  thus  partially  interrupted  for  a  day  or 
two,  yet,  when  the  ice  has  once  passed,  in  half  an 
hour  the  bridge  is  again  formed.  If,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  floating  ice,  which  descends  on  this  majestic 
river  in  huge  masses  and  with  terrific  impetuosity, 
should  carry  away  the  wooden  piers  of  a  bridge  like 
the  old  one,  the  interruption  continues  much  longer, 
for  the  repairs  are  at  once  more  tedious  and  expensive. 
The  ice  had  broken  up  two  days  before,  and  was  still 
hurrying  downwards  incessantly ;  the  bridge  was  cut 
away  in  the  centre,  and  the  passage  was  made  in  an 

By  avoiding  every  thing  like  exaggeration  of  the  particular  parts, 
and  softening  them  down  to  a  degree  which  an  artist  of  less  taste 
would  not  have  aimed  at,  he  has  identified,  as  far  as  might  be,  the 
dress  with  the  form.  The  gown  conceals  the  least  poetical  pecu- 
liarities, and  is  itself  disposed  in  an  arrangement  extremely  simple 
and  becoming.  The  sculptor  has  dispensed  with  the  wig  of  a 
Chancery  barrister,  and  who,  that  is  not  a  disciple  of  Roubilliac, 
will  not  rejoice  that  he  has  done  so  ?  The  French  artist  executed 
the  statue  of  President  Forbes,  in  the  hall  of  the  Second  Division 
of  the  Court  of  Session  at  Edinburgh,  and  bestowed  on  him  the 
utmost  plenitude  of  judicial  curls  and  tippets.  Chantry  executed 
that  of  President  Blair,  which  adorns  the  hall  of  the  First  Division, 
clothed  in  a  more  simple  drapery,  and  left  the  lofty,  open  brow 
unencumbered  by  the  official  mass  of  hair.  To  look  at  these  two 
statues  is  sufficient  of  itself  to  determine  the  comparative  merits 
of  these  different  styles. 


10  PLAIN  OF  THE  HHINE. 

ordinary  boat,  kept  up  against  the  current  by  running 
along  a  rope  stretched  across  the  opening  in  the  bridge. 
A  French  customhouse  guards  the  approach  on  the 
French  side ;  but  the  search  is  brief  and  slight,  for  no- 
body minds  what  you  carry  out  of  the  country.  The 
playful  quarrel  about  examining  the  baskets  of  a 
number  of  peasant  girls  returning  from  market  in 
Strasburgh,  seemed  to  be  pertinaciously  kept  up  by 
the  officers,  much  more  to  have  an  opportunity  of  ra- 
vishing illicit  kisses,  than  from  any  wish  to  detect  illicit 
commodities.  "  Father  Rhine"  was  passed  safely  and 
speedily.  There  comes  a  new  country,  new  forms, 
new  manners,  a  new  language  ;  but,  amid  all  that  is 
new,  the  old  pest  of  police  and  customhouse-officers. 
You  have  just  slipped  from  the  hands  of  French  Dou- 
aniers,  and  are  caught  in  the  fangs  of  German  Mauth- 
beamten, 

Kehl,  the  first  village  on  the  German  side,  wears  an 
open  and  regular  appearance,  which  seldom  recurs  in 
tne  villages  farther  in  the  interior  of  the  country.  At 
first,  long  tracts  of  willow  grounds,  and  occasional  sandy 
flats,  stretching  on  both  sides  of  the  river,  mark  the  ex- 
tent of  its  inundations  ;  but,  less  than  a  couple  of  miles 
from  the  bank,  the  country  is  already  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  in  Europe.  It  is  the  opening  of  the  plain  of 
the  Rhine,  the  Campagna  (Toro  of  Germany — every 
foot  of  which  teems  with  population,  industry,  and  fer- 
tility, and,  during  two  hundred  years,  has  been  fattened 
with  the  best  blood  of  Europe.  The  Rhine  is  its  uni- 
form boundary  on  the  west.  On  the  east  it  is  inclosed 
in  the  distance  by  irregular  eminences,  whose  surface 
is  the  favourite  abode  of  the  grape,  while  their  interior 
sends  forth  the  mineral  springs,  which  collect  to  Baden 
and  Hueb  all  the  fashion  and  disease  of  this  part  of 
Germany.  Behind  them  tower  the  prouder  and  shag- 
gy summits  of  the  Hercynian  or  Black  Forest.  It  has 
long  since  lost  its  extent  of  sixty  days  journey,  as  well 
as  its  Elks  and  Urochses.  What  remains  is  still  gloomy 


PLAIN  OF  THE  RHINE.  11 

with  primeval  oaks  and  pines ;  but  from  their  shades 
have  been  expelled  even  the  banditti,  who,  by  the  re- 
ceived laws  of  romance,  are  as  regularly  the  inhabitants 
of  a  German  forest  as  the  dagger  or  the  drug  are  the 
weapons  of  the  Italian.  Between  these  boundaries, 
the  plain  runs  along  to  the  north,  varying  in  breadth 
according  as  the  hills  press  closer  upon  or  retire  far- 
ther from  the  river.  The  great  road  from  Switzer- 
land avoids  the  plain,  running  along  the  eminences 
which  border  it  on  the  right.  The  champaign  coun- 
try, rivalling  the  plain  of  Tuscany,  as  seen  from  Fie- 
sole,  or  that  portion  of  Lombardy  which  stretches  out 
beneath  the  Madonna  di  San  Luca  at  Bologna,  lies  be- 
low, and  the  eye  never  tires.  The  general  character 
of  the  objecfs,  indeed,  does  not  vary;  it  is  a  perpetual 
succession  of  villages  and  small  towns,  lurking  among 
vineyards,  and  corn-fields,  and  orchards;  but,  at  every 
turn,  they  combine  themselves  into  new  groupes,  or 
lie  under  new  lights.  Here  a  long  stretch  of  the  broad 
and  glittering  Rhine  bursts  into  view^,  bounding  the  dis- 
tant landscape  like  a  silver  girdle  ;  there  his  place  is 
occupied  by  the  remoter  summits  of  the  Vosges.  Here 
you  may  linger  among  the  cottages  of  Oifenthal,  whose 
vine  still  retains  its  character,  and  hangs  its  clusters 
round  the  window  of  the  peasant;  or,  close  by  that 
little  churchyard,  you  may  muse  beneath  the  tree 
where  Turenne  fell  on  the  last  of  his  fields,  and  make 
a  brief  pilgrimage  to  the  rustic  chapel  beneath  whose 
altar  the  heart  of  the  hero  was  deposited. 

What  the  Germans  call  a  Diligence,  or  Post-wagen, 
dragging  its  slow  length  through  this  delicious  scene,  is 
a  bad  feature  in  the  picture.  Much  as  we  laugh  at 
the  meagre  cattle,  the  knotted  rope-harness,  and  lum- 
bering paces  of  the  machines  which  bear  the  same 
name  in  France,  the  French  have  outstripped  their 
less  alert  neighbours  in  every  thing  that  regards  neat- 
ness, and  comfort,  and  expedition.  The  German  car- 
riage resembles  the  Frencn  one,  but  is  still  more  clum- 


12  PLAIN  dF  THE  RHINE. 

sy  and  unwieldy.  The  luggage,  which  generally  con- 
stitutes by  far  the  greater  part  of  the  burden,  is 
placed,  not  above,  but  in  the  rear.  Behind  the  car- 
riage, a  flooring  projects  from  above  the  axle  of  the 
hind  wheels,  equal,  in  length  and  breadth,  to  all  the 
rest  of  the  vehicle.  On  this  is  built  up  a  castle  of 
boxes  and  packages,  that  generally  shoots  out  beyond 
the  wheels,  and  towers  above  the  roof  of  the  car- 
riage. The  whole  weight  is  increased  as  much  as  pos- 
sible by  the  strong  chains  intended  to  secure  the  for- 
tification from  all  attacks  in  the  rear ;  for  the  guard, 
like  his  French  brother,  will  expose  himself  neither 
to  wind  nor  weather,  but  forthwith  retires  to  doze 
in  his  cabriolet,  leaving  to  its  fate  the  edifice  which 
has  been  reared  with  much  labour  and  marvellous 
skill.  Six  passengers,  if  so  many  bold  men  can  be 
found,  are  packed  up  inside ;  two,  more  happy  or  less 
daring,  take  their  place  in  the  cabriolet  with  the 
guard.  The  breath  of  life  is  insipid  to  a  German 
without  the  breath  of  his  pipe  ;  the  insides  puff  most 
genially  right  into  each  other's  faces.  With  such  an 
addition  to  the  ordinary  mail-coach  miseries  of  a  low 
roof,  a  perpendicular  back,  legs  suffering  like  a  mar- 
tyr's in  the  boots,  and  scandalously  scanty  air-holes, 
the  Diligence  becomes  a  very  Black  Hole.  To  this 
huge  mass,  this  combination  of  stage-coach  and  car- 
rier's cart,  are  yoked  four  meagre,  ragged  cattle ; 
and  the  whole  dashes  along,  on  the  finest  roads,  at 
the  rate  of  rather  more  than  three  English  miles  an 
hour,  stoppages  included.  The  matter  of  refreshments 
is  conducted  with  a  very  philanthropical  degree  of  lei- 
sure, and  at  every  considerable  town,  a  breach  must  be 
made  in  the  luggage  castle,  and  be  built  up  again.  Half 
a  day's  travelling  in  one  of  these  vehicles  is  enough  to 
make  a  man  loathe  them  all  his  lifetime.* 

*  In  the  Rhenish  provinces  of  Prussia,  the  estahlishment  of  the 
new  French  mails  has  created  some  rivalry,  or  the  government  has 
been  brought  to  bestir  itself  to  facilitate  the  means  of  communica° 


BADEN.  ts 

It  can  only  be  ascribed  to  the  amazing  fertility  of 
this  country  that  its  population  seem  to  have  recover- 
ed so  rapidly  from  the  devastation  with  which  the  war 
visited  them  again  and  again.  From  Basle  to  Frank- 
fort there  is  scarcely  a  field  that  has  not  been  trodden 
down  by  contending  armies.  They  are  not  wealthy, 
and,  if  their  practice  in  domestic  comforts  were  weigh- 
ed against  our  own  ideas,  they  w^ould  be  found  want- 
ing ;  but  they  exhibit,  in  full  measure,  the  more  indis- 
pensable possessions  of  industry  and  hilarity,  a  simple 
and  most  affectionate  disposition.  The  family  of  Ba- 
den has  long  filled  a  respectable  rank  among  the  minor 
princes  of  Germany,  as  ruling  with  economy  and  kind- 
ness. It  went  by  the  side  of  that  of  Weimar  in  sup- 
porting the  young  genius  of  the  country  against  the 
preposterous  domination  of  French  literature,  and  did 
not  blush  to  call  Kiopstock  to  Carlsruhe  as  the  orna- 
ment of  its  court.  The  present  Grand  Duke  was 
among  the  first  of  the  German  princes  to  give  his  peo- 
ple a  representative  government,  when  the  termination 
of  the  war  left  him  and  them  their  own  masters. 
On  such  a  soil,  and  with  a  people  so  industrious  and 
easily  contented,  a  good  government,  well  administer- 
ed, should  produce  a  rural  population  that  would  have 
no  reason  to  envy  any  corner  of  Europe. 

The  Grand  Duke  is  a  popular  prince,  particularly  in 
the  hereditary  dominions  of  his  house.  It  is  in  the 
Swabian  part  of  his  territories  that  he  has  found  it 
most  difficult  to  conciliate  favour;  not  that  he  was  un- 
deserving of  it,*  but  because  the  Swabians  could  not 
easily  throw  off  their  hereditary  attachment  to  the 
House  of  Hapsburgh.  These  hardy  fatteners  of  snails, 
and  distillers   of  cherry  water,    a    tribe,   however,   of 

tion  in  that  commercial  district  of  the  kingdom.  On  the  great  road 
between  Frankfort  and  Cologne,  a  species  of  mail  has  been  esta- 
blished, which  they  have  dignified  with  the  name  of  SchncUwagen, 
or  Velocity  Coach,  because,  by  throwing  off  the  carrier's  cart,  it 
jnakes  out  between  five  and  six  miles  an  hour- 


14  BADEN. 

VFhose  intelligence  their  countrymen  entertain  so  low 
an  opinion,  that,  all  over  Germany,  a  piece  of  gross  stu- 
pidity is  proverbially  termed  a  Schwabenstreich,  longed 
to  return  beneath  the  wing  of  the  double  eagle.  Du- 
rino-  the  first  advance  of  the  allies,  when  the  Emperor 
and  the  Grand  Duke  were  together  at  Freyberg,  the 
former  was  actually  receiving,  in  one  room,  an  address 
from  the  Swabians,  praying  him  to  take  them  back 
under  the  imperial  sceptre,  while  the  Matter,  his  host 
and  their  sovereign,  was  under  the  same  roof.  The 
Emperor  wept  with  them  over  old  stories  and  old  at- 
tachments, for  there  is  not  a  more  kind-hearted  man 
in  his  empire  ;  but  other  views  of  policy  were  imperi- 
ous, and  they  remained  with  their  new  master.  This 
disposition,  in  fact,  is  said  to  have  been  part  of  the  se- 
cret history  of  the  constitution  of  Baden;  the  Govern- 
ment resolved  to  bestow  the  boon  to  turn  the  popular 
opinion  in  its  favour. 

Except  some  of  the  small  capitals,  which  are  light 
and  open,  the  general  character  of  the  towns  strewed 
round  in  all  directions  does  not  correspond  with  the 
beauty  of  the  country.  They  are  irregular,  inconveni- 
ent, and  gloomy.  The  inhabitants  are  content  to  creep 
through  dark,  narrow  streets  during  the  day,  if  one 
spot  be  left  open  and  planted  with  trees  for  their  eve- 
ning promenade.  Carlsruhe,  the  capital  of  the  Grand 
Duchy,  besides  being  enlivened  by  the  bustle  and  pa- 
rade which  the  residence  of  a  court  in  a  small  town  al- 
ways occasions,  has  a  peculiarly  rural  appearance  :  it 
strikes  one  just  as  a  large  and  very  handsome  country 
village.  There  has  not  been  much  taste  shown  in  the 
poplar  groves  which  surround  it,  and  border,  in  long 
tedious  lines,  the  roads  that  approach  it.  The  poplar 
is  not  a  tree  to  be  planted  in  masses ;  even  as  forming 
an  alley,  it  has  no  breadth  of  foliage,  or  depth  of  shade, 
to  atone  for  its  stiff,  pyramidal,  unvarying  form.  Carl- 
sruhe is  buried  among  them,  and  they  sink  into  utter 
insignificance  when  the  eye,  through  the  artificial  open- 


MANHEIM.  15 

ings,  catches  the  masses  of  the  Black  Forest  in  the 
back-ground. 

Without  the  presence  of  the  court  Carlsruhe  would 
not  exist.  Its  population  has  been  created,  and  is  sup- 
ported, only  by  the  wants  of  the  court,  and  the  rank 
and  wealth  that  always  follow  a  court  on  business  or 
pleasure.  Gay  and  idle  people  form  so  large  a  pro- 
portion of  the  small  whole,  that  poverty  and  misery  do 
not  easily  come  under  the  eye  of  the  strans^er.  The 
first  sight  of  Carlsruhe  tells  him  it  is  a  place  of  amuse- 
ment and  elegant  enjoyment  rather  than  of  business  j 
he  feels  himself  everywhere  merely  within  the  pre- 
cincts of  a  palace;  and,  unless  he  penetrate  into  the 
debates  of  the  chambers,  he  will  not  soon  discover  that 
the  more  serious  occupations  of  life  are  much  attend^ 
ed  to. 

Beyond  Carlsruhe  the  plain,  for  some  miles,  becomes 
broader  ;  but,  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Heidelberg,  a 
mountainous  ridge,  through  whose  vallies  the  Neckar 
finds  its  way,  presses  forward  to  the  Rhine.  Heidel- 
berg rests  on  the  last  slope,  and  at  the  foot  of  the 
ridge ;  corn  and  wine  crowd  upon  each  other  along 
the  Neckar,  during  all  that  remains  of  its  course,  to 
the  walls  of  Manheim.  Manheim  itself  is  the  most 
mathematically  regular  town  in  Europe,  a  mere  col- 
lection of  straight  lines  and  parallelograms,  every 
street  and  every  mass  of  building  like  every  other. 
It  was  not  difficult  to  attain  this  uniformity  in  a  town 
of  twenty-five  thousand  inhabitants,  but,  besides  being 
monotonous,  it  produces  confusion.  One  encounters 
more  difficulty  in  finding  his  way  through  the  streets 
of  Manheim,  than  in  much  larger  towns  which  have 
not  bowed  the  knee  in  such  absolute  subjection  to  a 
ground  plan,  and  in  which,  though  the  whole  be  irre- 
gular, the  parts  are  noticed  and  remembered  for  their 
own  peculiarities.  The  Cicerones  boast  of  one  or 
two  churches,  which  are  very  gaudy,  and  the  palace, 
which  is  very  large  and  heavy ;  but  the  great  charms 


16  MANHEIM. 

of  Manheim  are  due  to  nature.  On  the  north  it  is 
skirted  by  the  blue  waters  of  the  Neckar,  which,  at 
Heidelberg,  has  quitted  for  ever  its  mountain  gorge, 
and  here  pours  itself,  placid  and  slow,  into  the  bosom 
of  the  Rhine.  The  Rhine  itself  rolls  its  ample  stream 
on  the  west,  washing  the  walls ;  the  plain  beyond  runs 
back  from  the  left  bank,  disappearing  at  length  in  the 
shadow  of  the  forests  and  precipices  of  the  Vosges. 
Except  in  the  Rheingau  itself,  there  are  few  spots  on 
the  Rhine  where  this  imperial  river  makes  so  splendid 
an  appearance — the  expanse  of  water,  spread  out  like 
a  mighty  lake,  its  slow  majestic  motion,  its  tinge  of 
green,  not  deep  enough  to  prevent  the  vivid  reflection 
of  the  ramparts  and  towers  that  bristle  on  the  one 
bank,  and  the  cottages,  and  orchards,  and  vineyards, 
that  stud  the  other.  It  is  not  wonderful  that  the 
coolness  which  lingers  round  his  waters,  even  in  the 
greatest  heats  of  summer,  should  draw  gay  proces- 
sions of  stroller^  to  the  ramparts  and  bridge  to  enjoy 
the  magnificent  spectacle,  or  that  they  should  proudly 
challenge  Europe  to  equal  their  native  stream.  If 
Virgil  had  still  to  write,  the  Po  would  no  longer  be 
the  "  Rex  fluviorum,"  even  in  Europe,  for  in  every- 
thing but  sky  and  classical  association  the  Rhine  is  his 
superior.  The  artificial  embankments  of  the  Po,  sin- 
gular though  they  be  as  works  of  labour  and  skill,  de- 
form his  beauty,  and  the  sand  with  which  he  threat- 
ened to  encroach  on  the  Adriatic  discolours  his  own 
waters.  The  Rhine  that  Virgil  knew  washed  no  vine- 
yards, and  reflected  no  temples  :  he  had  heard  of  it 
only  as  a  savage  and  unadorned  stream,  rolling  itself 
through  interminable  woods,  and  guarding  the  haunts 
of  barbarians  who  had  checked  the  flight  of  the  Ro- 
man eagle. 

The  delights  of  the  situation,  and  the  pleasures  of 
the  society,  attract  a  number  of  resident  strangers ; 
for  here,  too,  as  being  the  residence  of  the  Markgra- 
vine  Dowager,  there  is  something  of  the   parade  and 


MANHEIM.  IT 

elegance  of  a  court.  Many  of  the  sojourners  are  per- 
sons of  literary  habits,  and  the  coteries  of  Manhcim 
have  gradually  been  acquiring  a  character  for  informa- 
tion and  bon  ton.  There  is  a  considerable  number  of 
Russians,  particularly  Livonians.  The  subjects  of  the 
Autocrat  of  all  the  Russias  seem  to  have  a  natural 
fondness  for  nestling  in  every  warmer  climate,  or  more 
civilized  country,  than  their  own.  These  were  the 
circumstances  which  made  Kotzebue  choose  Manheim 
for  his  residence,  when  the  notice  excited  by  the  sur- 
reptitious publication  of  his  unfortunate  bulletin  induc- 
ed him  to  quit  Weimar,  and  it  was  here,  in  a  small 
house  towards  the  Rhine,  that  he  fell  a  victim  to  the 
fanaticism  of  Sand.  I  found  the  murderer,  who  had 
been  executed  shortly  before,  still  the  subject  of  gene- 
ral conversation.  Though  his  deed,  besides  its  moral 
turpitude,  has  done  Germany  much  political  mischief, 
the  public  feeling  seemed  to  treat  his  memory  with 
much  indulgence.  Most  people,  except  the  students, 
were  liberal  enough  to  acknowledge  that  Sand  had 
done  wrong  in  committing  assassination,  but  they  did 
not  at  all  regard  him  with  disrespect,  much  less  with 
the  abhorrence  due  to  a  murderer.  The  ladies  were 
implacable  in  their  resentment  at  his  execution.  They 
could  easily  forgive  the  necessity  of  cutting  off  his 
head,  but  they  could  not  pardon  the  barbarity  of  cut- 
ting off,  to  prepare  him  for  the  block,  the  long  dark 
locks  which  curled  down  over  his  shoulders,  after  the 
academical  fashion.  People  found  many  things  in  his 
conduct  and  situation  which  conspired  to  make  them 
regard  him  as  an  object  of  pity,  sometimes  of  admira- 
tion, rather  than  of  blame.  Nobody  regrets  Kotze- 
bue. To  deny  him,  as  many  have  done,  all  claims  to 
talent  and  literary  merit,  argues  slieer  ignorance  or 
stupidity ;  but  his  talent  could  not  redeem  the  im- 
prudence of  his  conduct,  and  no  man  ever  possessed  in 
greater  perfection  the  art  of  making  enemies  where- 
ever  he  was  placed.  Every  body  believed,  too,  that 
3 


18  MANHEIM. 

Sand,  liowever  frightfully  erroneous  his  Ideas  might 
be,  acted  from  what  he  took  to  be  a  principle  of  pub- 
lic duty,  and  not  to  gratify  any  private  interest.  This 
feeling,  joined  to  the  patience  and  resolution  with 
which  he  bore  up  under  fourteen  months  of  grievous 
bodllv  suffering,  the  kindliness  of  temper  which  he 
manifested  towards  every  one  else,  and  the  intrepidity 
with  which  he  submitted  to  the  punishment  of  his 
crime,  naturally  procured  him  in  Germany  much  sym- 
pathy and  indulgence.  Such  palliating  feelings  to- 
wards the  perpetrator  of  such  a  deed  are,  no  doubt, 
abundantly  dangerous.  If  they  pass  the  boundary  by 
a  single  halr's-breadth,  they  become  downright  de- 
fenders of  assassination,  and  it  is  one  of  the  greatest 
mischiefs  of  such  an  example,  that  it  seduces  weak 
heads  and  heated  fancies  into  a  ruinous  coquetry  with 
principles  w^ilch  make  every  man  his  neighbour's  exe- 
cutioner. Still,  it  would  be  untrue  to  say  that  it  was 
only  his  brother  students  who  regarded  Sand  with 
these  indulgent  eyes.  To  them,  of  course,  he  ap- 
peared a  martyr  in  a  common  cause.  "  I  would  not 
have  told  him  to  do  it,"  said  a  student  of  Heidelberg 
to  me,  "  but  I  would  cheerfully  have  shaken  hands 
with  him  after  he  did  it."  Even  in  the  more  grave  and 
orderly  classes  of  society,  although  his  crime  was 
never  justified  or  applauded,  I  could  seldom  trace  any 
inclination  to  speak  of  him  with  much  rigour.  When 
the  executioner  had  struck,  the  crowd  rushed  upon 
the  scaffold,  every  one  anxious  to  pick  up  a  few  scat- 
tered hairs,  or  dip  a  ribbon,  a  handkerchief,  or  a  scrap 
of  paper,  in  his  blood.  Splinters  were  chipped  from 
the  reekino;  block,  and  worn  in  medallions  as  his  hair 
was  in  rings,  false  and  revered  as  the  reliques  of  a 
saint.  To  the  students  of  Heidelberg  was  ascribed 
the  attempt  to  sow  with  Forget-me-not  the  field  on 
which  l]e  was  beheaded  ;  and  wliich  they  have  bap- 
tized by  the  name  of  Sand's  Ascension-Meadow. 
Though  punished  as  an    homicide,  he  was  laid  in  con- 


HEIDELBERG.  19 

secrated  ground  ;  and,  till  measures  were  taken  by  the 
police  to  prevent  it,  fresh  flowers  and  branches  of 
weeping  willow  were  nightly  strewed,  by  unknown 
hands,  on  the  murderer's  grave. 

At  Heidelberg,  the  university  still  flourishes,  under 
the  liberal  administration  of  the  house  of  Baden,  and 
the  students,  by  far  the  most  important  personages  in 
the  town,  have  their  full  share  of  the  rawness,  and 
rudeness,  and  caprices,  which  characterize,  less  or 
more,  all  the  German  universities.  The  shapeless 
coat — the  long  hair — the  bare  neck — the  huge  shirt 
collar,  falling  back  on  the  shoulders — the  afl'ectedly 
careless,  would-be-rakish  air — the  total  absence  of  all 
good  breeding,  announce,  at  once,  the  presence  of  the 
fraternity.  But  these  evil  spirits  inhabit  a  paradise. 
The  Neckar,  though  navigable  for  small  craft,  still  re- 
tains all  the  freshness  of  a  mountain  stream.  On  its 
left  bank,  the  town  is  huddled  together  at  the  foot  of 
the  rocks,  plain,  irregular,  and  old-fashioned.  The 
right  bank  glows  with  the  vine,  ripening  beneath  high- 
er ridges  of  rock  and  wood,  which  shield  it  from  the 
north.  Behind,  the  prospect  closes  as  the  valley  re- 
cedes along  the  windings  of  the  river ;  to  the  west,  it 
opens  out  at  once  into  the  wondrous  plain,  and  ter- 
minates only  at  the  Rhine.  The  palace  of  the  Elec- 
tors of  the  Palatinate,  dilapidated  by  lightning,  by 
war,  and  by  time,  frowns  above  the  town.  Fortunate- 
ly it  Is  a  ruin.  In  the  days  of  its  perfect  grandeur,  a 
pile  so  huge  and  majestic,  and,  in  many  of  its  details, 
making  fair  pretensions  to  classical  architecture,  must 
have  been  out  of  place,  an  J,  if  the  exprt^ssion  may  be 
used,  out  of  keeping  with  the  surrounding  scenery. 
Gothic  towers  and  loop-lioled  battlements  may  be 
perched  on  the  summit  of  a  precipice,  or  stuck  on  the 
side  of  a  narrow  and  romantic  valley  ;  but  more  ample 
space,  and  features  more  imposing  than  the  merely 
picturesque,  are  the  iltting  accompaniments  of  such  a 
pile   as   the    Castle    of   Heidelberg   must   have  been, 


2U  DARMSTADT. 

when  its  halls  glittered  with  the  granite  columns 
wliich  had  once  adorned  the  favourite  palace  of  Char- 
lemagne. If  this  was  a  defect,  time  and  devastation 
hav^e  remedied  it  superbly;  w'hatever  the  castle  may 
have  been,  the  ruin  is  in  perfect  harmony  with  the 
scene,  and  well  deserves  its  reputation  as  the  most  im- 
posin^jj  and  majestic  in  Europe.  The  wails,  of  a  soli- 
di-y  that  seemed  to  rival  the  rock  on  which  they  were 
founded,  lie  in  the  ditches,  in  confused  masses,  "  like 
fragments  of  a  former  world."  Among  the  stately 
reliques  of  the  hail  of  the  knights,  there  are  still  many 
rich  remains  of  the  magnificence  which  had  rendered 
it  the  boast  of  Germany;  and,  amid  the  smoke  Avhich 
pollutes  its  walls,  one  loves  to  imagine  he  can  trace 
the  course  of  the  flash  that  lighted  up  the  conflagra- 
tion. 

The  humblest  part  of  the  whole,  the  cellars,  have 
alone  escaped  destruction,  for  they  are  hewn  out  in 
the  living  rock,  and,  if  old  tales  may  be  believed,  ex- 
tend far  beneath  the  town.  In  one  of  them  is  still 
preserved  the  famed  Heidelberg  tun,  that  contains  I 
know  not  how  many  pipes  of  wine.  Alas  !  it  is  parch- 
ed and  empty,  as  eloquent  a  memento  of  mortal  vicis- 
situdes as  the  ruined  castle.  When  the  halls  and 
courts  above  resounded  with  the  revelry  of  knightly 
banquets  and  feudal  retainers,  to  fill  it  was  a  jubilee, 
and  to  drain  it  an  amusement.  The  family  of  the 
Palatinate  is  on  the  tlirone  of  Bavaria,  the  castle  is 
in  ruins,  and  the  tun  is  empty.  It  lives  only  in  the 
drinking  songs  of  the  students,  and  as  a  lion  for  the 
stranger. 

At  Darmstadt,  anotiier  small,  handsome  town,  the 
capital  of  the  Grand  Dutchy  of  tlie  same  name,  and, 
like  Carlsruhe,  entirely  dependent  on  the  residence  of 
the  court,  1  saw  nothing  but  a  very  splendid  theatre, 
furnished  with  an  excellent  orchestra,  and  over-crowd- 
ed with  spectators,  the  greater  part  of  whom  had 
come  up  from  Frankfert  for  the  sake  of  Sacchini's 


FRANKFORT.  21 

CEdipus.  The  opera  is  the  ruling  passion  of  the  Grand 
Duke,  but  his  subjects  do  not  vvilnngly  see  so  much 
money  spent  on  it  by  a  prince  who  ranks  so  low  among 
the  "  German  gentles."  He  has  the  best  orchestra 
between  Basle  and  Brussels,  and  the  only  fortification 
in  his  dominions  is  garrisoned  by  foreign  troops.  When, 
after  long  reluctance,  he  at  length  cpnvoked  a  repre- 
sentative body  under  a  new  constitution,  the  first  thing 
the  representatives  did  was  to  quarrel  with  it  as  too 
antiquated  and  impotent.  He  trembled  for  the  or- 
chestra, become  good  natured,  yielded  them  more 
liberal  terms,  and,  as  they  left  his  opera  untouched, 
there  have  been  no  more  squabbles. 

A  farther  drive  of  fourteen  miles,  through  a  country 
moi'e  sandy  than  any  part  of  the  plain  on  the  Upper 
Rhine,  leads  to  the  banks  of  the  Main  ;  the  well-bred 
listlessness  and  courtly  demeanour  of  Darmstadt  are 
exchanged  for  the  noise  and  bustle  of  Frankfort. 
Long  before  reaching  the  city,  the  increasing  host  of 
carriages  and  waggons  announced  the  vicinity  of  this 
great  emporium.  On  passing  the  bridge  across  the 
Main,  the  confusion  became  inextricable,  for  it  was 
the  Michaelmas  Fair.  The  narrow  streets,  sunk  be- 
tween tall  old  fashioned  piles  of  building,  seemed  too 
small  for  the  busy  crowd  that  swarmed  through  them, 
examirjing  and  bargaining  about  all  the  productions  of 
Europe  in  all  its  languages.  The  outside  walls  of  the 
shops,  and,  in  many  instances,  of  the  first  floors,  were  en- 
tirely covered  with  large  pieces  of  cloth,  generally  of 
some  glaring  colour,  proclaiming  the  name  and  wares  of 
the  foreigner  who  iiad  there  pitched  his  tent,  in  French 
and  Italian,  German,  Russian,  Polish,  and  Bohemian ; 
rarely  in  English,  but  very  often  in  Hebrew.  The 
last,  however,  being  a  somewhat  inconvenient  language 
for  sign  posts,  was  generally  accompanied  by  a  trans- 
lation in  a  known  tongue.  Not  only  the  public  squares, 
but  every  spot  tliat  could  be  protected  against  the 
encroachments  of  wheels  and  horses,  groaned  beneath 


2^  FRANKFORT. 

gaudy  and  ample  booths,  which  displayed,  in  the  most 
outre  juxta-position,  all  that  convenience  or  luxury  has 
ever  invented,  from  wooden  platters,  Manchester  cot- 
tons, or  Vienna  pipe-heads,  to  the  bijouterie  of  the 
Palais  Royal  or  the  china  of  Meissen,  silks  from 
Lyons,  or  chandeliers  from  the  mountains  of  Bohemia. 
Eveiy  fair  presents,  on  a  smaller  scale,  the  same  va- 
riety and  confusion;  but  the  assemblage  of  men  from  all 
quarters  of  the  globe,  and  these,  too,  men  of  business, 
in  search  of  bargains,  not  amusement,  that  is  collected 
in  the  streets  and  inns  of  Frankfort,  during  the  fair,  is 
to  be  found  no  where  else,  except,  perhaps,  in  Leipzig 
on  a  similar  occasion. 

If  the  traveller  who  happens  to  arrive  at  this  most 
unfavourable  of  all  seasons  for  the  mere  traveller,  can 
rest  satisfied  with  a  cellar  or  a  garret,  the  hotels  are 
not  the  leas't  animated  part  of  ihe  whole.  Butler  and 
cook  have  been  preparing  during  weeks  for  the  cam- 
paign ;  larder  and  servants  are  put  upon  a  war  esta- 
blishment ;  the  large  hall,  reserved  in  general  for  civic 
feasts  or  civic  balls,  is  thrown  open  for  the  daily  table 
d'hote.  In  one  hotel,  above  a  hundred  and  fihy  per- 
sons daily  surrounded  the  table,  chattering  all  langua- 
ges "  from  Indus  to  the  pole."  The  newly  decked 
walls  dis[)layed  in  fresco  all  the  famed  landscapes  of 
the  Rhine,  from  Manheim  to  Cologne  ;  the  stuccoed 
ceiling  and  gilt  cornices  far  outshone  in  splendour 
the  hall  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  way,  in  Avhich 
the  heads  of  the  Holy  Roman  Empire  used  to  be 
elected  and  anointed.  From  a  gallery  at  either  end, 
a  full  orchestra  accompanied  each  morsel  of  sausage 
with  a  sounding  march,  or,  when  Hock  and  Riideshei- 
mer  began  to  glow  in  the  veins,  attuned  the  company, 
by  repeated  waltzes,  to  the  amusements  of  the  evening. 
The  merchants,  who  flock  down  from  every  quarter, 
are  not  always  allowed  to  make  their  journey  alone. 
Their  wives  and  daughters  know  full  well  that  busi- 
ness is  not  the  sole  occupation  of  a  Frankfort  fair ; 


THE  CITY.  28 

that,  if  there  be  bills  and  balances  for  the  gentlemen, 
there  are  ball;^,  and  plays,  and  concerts  for  the  ladies, 
and  that  a  gentleman,  on  such  occasions,  is  never  so 
safe  as  when  he  has  Ills  own  ladles  bj  his  side.  Though, 
in  general,  neither  well-informed  nor  elegantly  bred, 
they  are  pretty,  affable,  willing  to  be  amused  ;  they 
give  variety  to  the  promenades,  and  chit-chat  to  the 
table. 

Except  in  the  peculiarities  of  the  fair,  there  is  no- 
thinor  to  distinsruish  Frankfort  from  a  hundred  other 
large  cities.  It  stretches  clilcfly  along  the  nght  bank 
of  the  Main,  which  is  discoloured  by  the  pollutions  of 
the  city,  and  certainly  is  not  adorned  by  the  clumsy, 
shapeless  things,  called  ships,  which  minister  to  its  com- 
merce. In  fact,  a  river  of  but  moderate  size  always 
loses  its  beauty  in  passing  or  trayersing  a  laige  city. 
The  city  itself  is  generally  old  ;  nuich  of  it  is  crazy. 
There  is  only  one  good  street  in  it,  the  Zell,  and  great 
part  of  the  good  houses  in  that  street  are  inns.  Among 
them  is  the  one  where  Voltaire  was  seized,  on  the  re- 
quisition of  the  Prussian  resident,  when  flying  from  the 
wrath  of  the  monarch  to  whom  he  had  so  long  "washed 
dirty  linen."  The  growing  wealth  of  Frankfort  loves 
to  setHe  outside  of  the  walls;  for  the  country  in  the 
immediate  vicinity,  whether  up  the  Main,  or  back  in 
the  vallies  of  the  Taunus,  is  so  rich  in  natural  embel- 
lishments, that  the  affluent  naturally  prefer  it  as  a  re- 
sidence to  the  slooni  of  the  town.  A  number  of  de- 
lightful  villas  stud  the  slopes  and  crown  the  summit  of 
the  Miihlberg,  a  moderate  eminence,  which  stretches 
along  the  opposite  bank  of  the  Main,  equally  celebrat- 
ed for  the  wine  and  the  prospect  which  it  yields. 
There,  reposing  from  the  calculations  of  the  counting- 
house,  the  merchant  contemplates  below,  in  silent 
rapture,  the  passage  of  sail  and  waggon  that  bring  the 
materials  of  his  wealth,  and  the  progress  of  the  vines 
that  are  to  renew  the  stores  of  his  cellar. 

The  cathedral,  a  work  of  the  fourteenth  ceutury,  is 


24  FRANKFORT. 

still  less  interesting  in  itself,  than  for  its  antiquity  ;  the 
unfinished  tower,  the  unfinished  lahour  of  a  whole  cen- 
tury, sits  heavy  on  the  edifice.  The  Romer,  or  Ro- 
man, a  building  now  used  for  the  public  offices,  is  suj> 
posed  to  derive  its  name  from  having  been,  if  not  built, 
at  least  used  as  a  warehouse  by  Lombard  merchants, 
in  the  eleventh  and  twelfth  centuries,  while  Venice  still 
distributed  the  productions  of  the  East  into  the  North. 
It  was  afterwards  applied  to  a  more  noble  purpose, 
which  alone  gives  it  any  interest ;  within  its  w^alls  the 
German  Emperors  were  elected  and  crow^ned.  There 
is  still  preserved,  as  a  solitary  remnant  of  majesty,  a 
copy  of  the  Golden  Bull,  the  document  that  determin- 
ed the  rights  of  prince  and  subject  in  an  empire  ano- 
malous while  it  endured,  and  not  regretted  now  that  it 
is  gone.  The  cornice  above  tlie  crimson  tapestry,  with 
which  the  election-chamber  is  entirely  hung,  has  been 
allowed  to  retain  the  armorial  bearings  of  the  electors, 
and  they  now  witness  the  deliberations  of  the  Senate 
of  Frankfort.  The  hall  where  the  emperors  were 
crowned  can  never  have  been  worthy  of  so  august  a 
ceremony. 

A  city  where  every  man  and  every  moment  is  devo- 
ted to  money-raakiijg  is  not  tlie  favourite  abode  of  the 
arts,  even  though  it  be  decorated  with  the  epithet  of 
free.  Frankfort,  indeed,  possesses  a  picture  gallery, 
but  I  saw  little  in  it  worth  seeing  again.  The  magni- 
ficent legacy  of  a  banker  who,  some  years  ago,  be- 
queathed a  fortune  of  a  hundred  thousand  pounds,  for 
the  encouragement  of  the  arts,  and  the  support  of 
young  artists,  will  probably  produce,  as  similar  elee- 
mosynary institutions  commonly  have  done,  an  abun- 
dant crop  of  mediocrity.  In  the  suburban  gardens  of 
the  wealthiest  among  the  merchants  is  the  master- 
piece of  Dannecker,  a  sculptor  of  Wirtemberg,  Ariadne 
on  a  leopard.  The  figure  is  well  cut,  but  the  attitude 
is  unpleasant;  she  is  too  nicely  and  anxiously  balanced 
on  the  back  of  the  animal.     Never  was  sculptor  so  un- 


JEWS.  25 

fortunate  in  his  marble  ;  the  Goddess  of  Naxos  looks 
as  if  she  had  been  hewn  out  of  old  Stilton  cheese;  her 
naked  body  is  covered  with  blue  spots  and  blue  streaks, 
from  the  crown  of  the  head  to  the  sole  of  the  foot 
The  citizens  have  long  wished  to  erect  a  monument  to 
their  great  townsman,  Gothe  ;  but  the  opposition  made 
to  it,  even  from  the  press,  (for  Gothe  has  many  de- 
tractors,) seems  to  have  convinced  them  of  the  pro- 
priety of  deferring  it,  at  least,  till  the  patriarch  be  H^  cLit 
dead  ;  and  few  men  have    outlived  so  many  admirers,  ^j^  /n^ 

Frankfort,  in   consequence    of  her  commercial  rela-  ^ 

tions,  is  so  thoroughly  under  foreign  influence,  and  so 
polluted  by  a  mixture  of  all  foreign  manners,  that  her 
population  can  hardly  be  said  to  have  a  character  of 
their  own.  Even  the  multifarious  connections  with  all 
ends  of  the  earth,  which  have  made  her  citizens  in  a 
manner  citizens  of  the  world,  have  unfitted  them  to  be 
German  citizens;  for  they  judge  of  the  happiness  of 
mankind  by  the  rate  of  exchange,  and  the  price  of 
wine.  Let  no  one  hastily  condemn  the  worthy  citizens 
of  Frankfort  for  thus  forgetting,  in  the  pursuits  of  the 
merchant  and  money  speculator,  what  the  politician 
might,  perhaps,  hold  to  be  the  interest  of  their  com- 
mon country;  or,  at  least,  before  pronouncing  his  doom 
on  their  imagined  selfishness,  let  him  study  the  port  of 
London,  or  Liverpool,  or  Bristol,  and  discover,  if  he 
can,  a  purer  foundation  for  English  mercantile  patri- 
otism. 

Of  the  fifty  thousand  inhabitants  who  form  the  po- 
pulation of  Frankfort,  about  seven  thousand  are  Jews. 
Perhaps  they  might  have  been  expected  to  increase 
more  rapidly  in  a  city  whose  favourite  pursuits  are  so 
congenial  to  the  trafficking  spirit  of  Israel,  while  its 
constitution  gave  them  a  toleration  in  religion,  and  se- 
curity of  properly,  which  they  obtained  only  at  a  much 
later  period  from  more  powerful  masters.  They  in- 
habit chiefly  a  particular  quarter  of  the  town,  which, 
though  no  longer  walled  in,  as  it  once  was,  to  separate 

4 


26  FRANKFORT. 

them  from  the  rest  of  the  community,  repels  the  Chris- 
tian intruder,  at  every  step,  with  filth  much  too  dis- 
gusting to  be  particularized.  In  the  driving  of  their 
traffic  they  are  importunate  as  Italian  beggars.  Lay- 
ing in  wait  in  his  little  dark  shop,  or  little  tattered 
booth,  or,  if  these  be  buried  in  some  obscure  and  sick- 
ening alley,  prowling  at  the  corner  where  it  joins  some 
more  frequented  street,  the  Jew  darts  out  on  every 
passenger  of  promise.  He  seems  to  possess  a  pecu- 
liar talent  at  discovering,  even  in  the  Babel  of  Frank- 
fort, the  country  of  the  person  whom  he  addresses,  and 
seldom  (ails  to  hit  the  right  language.  Unless  thrown 
off  at  once,  he  sticks  to  you  through  half  a  street,  whis- 
pering the  praises  of  his  wares  mingled  with  your  own; 
for,  curving  the  spare,  insignificant  boay  into  obsequi- 
ousness, and  throwing  into  the  twinkling  gray  eye  as 
much  condescension  as  its  keenly  expressed  love  of 
gain  will  admit,  he  conducts  the  whole  oration  as  if  he 
were  sacrificing  himself  to  do  you  a  favour  of  which 
nobody  must  know.  When  all  the  usual  recommenda- 
tions of  great  bargains  fail,  he  generally  finishes  the 
climax  with  "  On  my  soul  and  conscience.  Sir,  they  are 
genuine  smuggled  goods." 

It  seems  to  be  the  lot  of  the  Jew  to  make  himself 
singular  even  in  trades  which  he  drives  in  common 
with  Christians,  much  more  palpably  than  he  diflfiers 
from  them  in  their  religious  faith.  In  a  Protestant 
country  a  Catholic  is  not  known,  nor  in  a  Catholic  coun- 
try a  Protestant,  till  you  open  his  prayer-book,  or  fol- 
low him  into  his  church  ;  but  the  peculiarities  which 
keep  the  Jew  separate  from  the  world  belong  to  every- 
day life.  It  is  true,  that,  all  over  Europe,  individuals 
are  to  be  found  who  seldom  repair  to  the  synagogue, 
and  have  overcome  the  terrors  of  barbers  and  bacon; 
but  these  are  regarded  in  heart,  by  their  more  ortho- 
dox brethren,  as  the  freethinkers  and  backsliders  of 
the  tribes  of  Israel,  whose  sinful  compliances  must  ex- 
clude them  from  the  church  triumphant,  though  the 


JEWS.  9,7 

ungodly  portion  of  mammon,  which  they  have  contri- 
ved to  amass,  may  render  it  prudent  to  retain  them 
nominally  within  the  pale  of  the  communion  below. 
The  peculiarities  of  the  general  mass  form  a  lasting 
wall  of  partition  between  them  and  their  Christian 
neighbours.  In  his  modes  of  appellation,  in  his  meats, 
in  his  amusements,  the  Jew  is  a  separatist  from  the 
world,  uniting  himself  to  a  solitary  community,  not  only 
in  his  religious  faith,  which  no  one  minds,  but  in  mat- 
ters which  enter  into  the  spirit,  and  descend  to  the  de- 
tails of  ordinary  life.  Whether  you  dine,  or  pray,  or  con- 
verse, or  correspond  with  a  pure  and  conscientious  Jew, 
some  peculiarity  forces  upon  your  notice,  that  he  is  not 
one  of  the  people  ;  and  in  these,  more  than  in  the  pe- 
culiarities of  their  religious  creed,  rests  the  execution 
of  the  curse,  which  still  keeps  the  descendants  of  Israel 
a  distinct  and  despised  people  among  the  Gentile  na- 
tions. 

As  a  recompence  for   having  lost    the  elections  and 
coronations  of  the   emperors,  Frankfort  was  made  the 
seat  of  the  Gernianic  Diet,   and  would  boast    of    being 
the  seat  of  government  of  the  whole  Germanic   body, 
if  the  Diet  were  truly  a  government.  But,  except  that 
the  presence  of  the  deputies  and   foreign  ministers  in- 
creases the  number  of  dinners  and  carriages  in  Frank- 
fort, the  Germans  maintain,  that    the  confederation,  in 
which  they  have  been  bound,  serves  no  one   purpose 
of  a  government,  but  is  merely  a  clumsy  and  expensive 
instrument,  to  enable  Austria  and  Prussia  to  govern  all 
Germany.     The   thing  looks    well    enough   on    paper, 
they  say,  for  the  votes  appear  to  be  distributed  accord- 
ing to  the  population  of   the  different  states  ;  but    in 
its  working  it  manifests  only  the  dictatorial  preponde- 
rance of  powers    which   they   will  not  acknowledge  to 
be  German  in  point  of  interest,  and  only  partially  Ger- 
man even  in  point  of  territory.     One-third  of  the  votes, 
in  the  ordinary   meetings,   belong   to  Austria,  Prussia, 
England,  Denmark,  and  the  Netherlands.     The  small 


2«  FRANKFORT. 

powers,  who  form  the  majority  with  half  and  quarter 
votes,  or,  as  in  one  case,  with  the  sixth  part  of  a  vote 
each,  are  entirely  dependent  on  these  greater  states. 
These  greater  states,  though  possessing  territories  in 
Germany,  are  essentially  foreign  in  iheir  strength  and 
interests,  and,  enjoying  an  irresistible  influence  in  the 
Diet,  they  have  handed  over  the  government  of  Ger- 
many to  Austria  and  Prussia;  while  Prussia,  again, 
seems  to  have  thrown  herself  into  the  arms  of  Russia, 
and  Austria  has  been  for  centuries  the  bigotted  oppo- 
nent of  every  thing  which  might  tend  to  render  Ger- 
many independent  of  the  house  of  Hapsburgh.  The 
Emperor  Francis  did  well  not  to  labour  after  the  re- 
storation of  the  euipire  ;  for,  instead  of  remaining  the 
limited  and  elective  head  of  a  disjointed  monarchy,  he 
has  become  the  hereditary  dictator  of  a  submissive 
confederation  ;  instead  of  negotiating  at  Ratisbonne, 
he  can  command  at  Frankfort.  Thus  the  Germanic 
Diet  is  essenliaily  the  representative,  not  of  German, 
but  of  foreign  interests,  guided  by  potentates  who  claim 
a  voice  in  its  measures  in  virtue  of  a  portion  of  their 
territories,  and  then  throw  in  upon  its  dehberations  the 
whole  weight  of  their  preponderating  poMtical  and  mil- 
itary influence,  to  guard  their  own  loreign  interests, 
and  effectuate  schemes  of  policy,  which  have  no  rela- 
tion to  the  union,  or  independence,  or  welfare  of  Ger- 
many. 

The  confederation  provides,  to  be  sure,  a  public 
treasury  and  a  common  army  for  the  defence  of  the 
country,  but  of  what  use  are  a  treasury  and  army 
which  stand  at  the  disposal  of  foreign  influence? 
Moreover,  it  does  not  leave  the  states  which  compose 
it  even  political  independence  among  themselves,  and 
the  quiet  administration  of  their  internal  concerns.  It 
seems  to  be  the  right  of  a  sovereign  prince  to  give  his 
subjects  as  popular  institutions  as  he  may  think  proper; 
but  the  sovereign  princes  of  Germany  must  previously 
pbtain,  through  the   medium  of  the  Diet,  the  permis- 


THE  GERMANIC  DIET.  29 

sion  of  the  courts  of  Vienna  and  Berlin.  On  this  body 
depends  the  degree  to  which  they  shall  descend  from 
the  old  arbitrary  prerogative  ;  for  the  confederation, 
while  it  thus  lops  off  the  most  unquestionable  rights  of 
sovereign  states,  has  formally  declared,  with  ridiculous 
inconsistency,  that  it  can  contain  only  sovereign  princes 
— and  all  the  world  knows  what  a  sovereign  prince 
means  in  the  language  of  Vienna.  Freedom  of  discus- 
sion among  themselves,  and  the  power  of  communicat- 
ing their  deliberations  to  those  for  whom  they  legis- 
late, seem  to  be  inseparable  from  the  useful  existence 
of  a  legislative  body  ;  but,  by  the  provisions  of  the 
confederation,  this  eternal  minor  placed  under  the  tu- 
telage of  foreign  powers,  the  Diet  is  bound  to  take 
care,  that  neither  the  discussions  in  such  assemblies 
themselves,  where  they  exist  by  sulTerance,  nor  their 
publication  through  the  press,  shall  endanger  the  tran- 
quillity of  Germany — and  all  the  world  krjows  by 
what  standard  Prince  Metternich  measures  public 
tranquillity. 

Even  in  the  states  where  representative  govern- 
ments have  been  established,  the  confederation  de- 
prives them  of  all  power  in  the  most  important  ques- 
tions that  can  be  put  to  a  nation,  those  of  peace  and 
war;  for  it  has  expressly  provided,  that  no  constitu- 
tion shall  be  allowed  to  impede  a  prince,  who  belongs 
to  the  confederation,  in  the  performance  of  the  duties 
which  the  Diet  may  think  proper  to  impose  upon  him. 
Whether  Bavaria  or  Wirtemherg,  for  example,  shall 
go  to  war,  is  not  in  every  case  a  question  for  Iter  own 
king  and  parliament,  but  for  the  Prussian  and  Austrian 
envoys  at  Frankfort.  If  the  powers  which,  though 
essentially  foreign,  are  preponderatmg.  find  it  useful  to 
employ  the  money  and  arrfts  of  the  Germanic  body, 
the  constitution  at  home  is  virtually  suspended.  The 
Diet  is  despotic  in  legislative,  and  executive,  and  judi- 
cial authority  ;  and,  if  any  part  of  the  territory  includ- 
ed in  the  confederation  be  attacked,  the  whole  body  is 


3G  FRANKFORT. 

ipso  facto  in  a  state  of  war.  France  quarrels  with 
Austria  and  the  NethcHands ;  she  attacks  the  former 
in  Italy,  and  the  latter  in  the  duchy  of  Luxembourg, 
whicii  is  a  part  of  the  confederation  ;  the  whole  Ger- 
manic body  must  fly  to  arms,  for  the  territory  of  the 
confederation  is  attacked.  Although  Bavaria,  for  in- 
stance, should  have  no  more  interest  in  the  quarrel 
than  his  Majesty  of  Otaheite,  she  must  submit  to  the 
misery  and  extravagance  of  war,  as  if  an  enemy  stood 
on  the  banks  of  herown  Iser.  In  vain  may  her  par- 
liament resolve  for  peace,  and  refuse  to  vote  either 
men  or  money  ;  it  is  the  duty  of  their  king  to  go  to 
war  for  the  inviolability  of  this  ricketty  and  heteroge- 
neous confederation.  The  decision  belongs,  not  to  the 
monarch  and  representatives  of  the  Bavarian  people, 
but  to  the  diplomatists  of  Frankfort,  and  if  the  former 
be  backward,  a  hundred  thousand  Austrians  can  spee- 
dily supply  the  place  of  tax-gatherers  and  recruiting 
officers. 

These  are  the  sentiments  which  are  heard  every 
where  in  Germany  ;  and,  making  every  allowance  for 
national  partialities,  there  certainly  is  p  great  deal  of 
truth  in  them.  The  Germanic  confederation  ha^^  noth- 
ing equal  in  it ;  it  is  ruled  by  foreigners,  for  even  the 
votes  of  lianover  obey  the  ministry  of  England.  Wei- 
mar, whose  liberal  institutions  and  free  press  had  been 
guaranteed  by  this  very  Diet,  was  compelled  to  violate 
it,  and  submit  to  a  censorship,  at  the  will  of  a  congress 
of  ministers,  whom  Germany  can  justly  call  foreign,  as- 
sembled at  Carlsbad.  If  I  observed  rightly,  the  pre- 
ponderance of  Austria  is  peculiarly  grating  to  the  pow- 
ers more  properly  German.  They  know  that  Austria 
is  the  very  last  among  them  which  can  pretend  to  be 
reckoned  a  pure  German  state ;  the  greatest  part  of 
her  population  does  not  even  speak  the  language; 
they  are  at  least  her  equals  in  military  fame,  and  have 
far  outstripped  her  in  all  the  arts  of  peace.  It  is  not 
wonderful  they   should  feel  degraded  at  seeing  their 


THE  GERMANIC  DIET.  31 

common  country  subjected  to  the  domination  of  a 
power  In  which  they  find  so  Mttle  to  love  or  respect. 
If  you  wish  to  know  the  pohtics  ot  ihe  confederation, 
say  the  Germans,  you  must  inquire,  not  at  Frankfort, 
but  at  Vienna  or  Bcirlm.  One  thing  is  certain,  viz. 
that  the  southern  sfates,  which  have  adopted  popular 
institutions,  must  hang  together  in  good  and  evil  re- 
port. It  is  only  in  a  determined  spirit  of  union,  and  in 
the  honest  support  of  Hanover,  that  Bavaria,  and 
Wirtemberg,  and  Baden,  can  be  safe.  The  "delenda 
est  Carthago"  of  Cato  was  not  more  necessary  in 
Rome,  than  "cavenda  est  Austria"  is  in  Munich,  and 
Sluttgard,  and  Hanover. 

The  Diet  is  held  to  be  utterly  impotent  even  in  its 
most  important  duty,  the  preservation  of  that  equality 
among  its  own  members,  without  which  a  confedera- 
tion is  one  of  the  most  intolerable  forms  of  oppression. 
The  King  of  Prussia  chose  to  lay  taxes,  as  was  alleged, 
on  the  subjects  of  his  neighbour  the  Duke  of  Anhalt 
Cothen,  both  of  them  members  of  the  confederation. 
The  little  duke  brought  his  action  before  the  Diet 
against  the  great  king.  All  Germany  was  on  tip-toe 
expectation  to  see  how  the  supreme  government  would 
discharge  its  duty.  The  supreme  government  was 
much  averse  to  show  its  Impotency  in  a  dispute  where 
all  was  strength  on  the  one  side,  and  all  weakness  on 
the  other,  and  contrived  to  have  the  case  settled  out 
of  court ;  a  phrase  by  no  means  out  of  place,  for  the 
form  and  nomenclature  of  proceeding  in  the  supreme 
executive  government  of  Germany  would  be  intelligi- 
ble only  in  the  Court  of  Chancery,  or,  still  more,  m  the 
Scottish  Court  of  Session.  Nothing  is  managed  with- 
out whole  reams  of  petitions,  and  answers,  and  replies, 
and  duplies.  A  growler  of  Berlin  was  asked,  "  What 
is  the  Diet  about?"  "Of  course,  examining  the  sta- 
tioner's accounts,"  was  the  reply. 

But  these  are  dry  matters.  It  will  be  more  amus- 
ing to  follow  the  course  of  the  Main,  a  dozen  miles  up- 


32  SELIGENSTADT. 

wards  from  Frankfort,  to  "  The  Abode  of  Bliss,"  (Se- 
ligenstadt,)  a  small  village  which,  close  on  the  bank  of 
the  river,  peeps  forth  from  a  decaying  forest.     It  has 
its  name  from   having    witnessed  the  loves,  as  it  still 
preserves   the   remains,  of  Eginhard   and  Emma.     A 
scanty  ruin,  called   the   Red  Tower,  is  pointed  (mt  as 
having  been  part  of  the  original  residence  of  the  lov- 
ers, after  Charlemagne    prudently   cor.zefittd   to  save 
the  honour  of  his  daughter,  by  giving  her  to  the  aspir- 
ing societary.     Eginhard  built    a  church  on  the  spot, 
and  stored   it    with   reliques.     The  peasantry,  having 
forgotten   the  names,  and   never   known  the    history, 
have  a  version  of  their  own.     According  to   their  le- 
gend, the  daughter  of  an  emperor  who  was  celebrating 
his  Christmas  holidays  at  Frankfort,  (and  one  of  them 
told  me  his  name  was  Emperor  Nero,)  fell  in  love  with 
a  huntsman  of  her  father's    train.     She  fled  with  her 
lover,  as  young  ladies  will  do  now  ai?d  then,  when  pa- 
pas look  sour,  and  young  gentlemen  look  sweet.    They 
found  refuge   and    concealment    in   the    forest,  an  out- 
skirt  of  the  Spessart,  which,  though  now  so  much  thin- 
ned, in  those  days  spread  its   oaks   far   and  wide  over 
the    country.     They  built    themselves  a    hut,  and,  of 
course,  lived    happily.     The   young  man   was    expert 
and  industrious  as  a  deer  stealer,  and  the  lady  boasted 
acquirements    in    cookery    which    subsequently    were 
turned    to  excellent  account.     Years   pass  away;   the 
emperor  happens    to   hunt   again   in  the  forest ;  over- 
come by  hunger,  fatigue,  and  a   long  chace,  he  stum- 
bles, with  his  suite,  on  the  solitary  cottage,  and  asks  a 
dinner.     The    confounded  inmates    prepare  to  set  be- 
fore him  the  only   repast   which  their  poverty  affords, 
venison  poached  in  his  own  forest.     The  emperor  did 
not  recos^nize   his  Inst  daughter  in  the  more  womanly 
form,    and    rustic    disguise,    of   the     hostess ;   but    the 
daughter  recognized  her  father;  and,  as  woman's  wit 
knows  no  ebb,   she  served  up  to   his    majesty  a  dish 
which  she  knew   to   have    been   his  favourite,  and  of 


SELIGENSTADT.  5S 

which  he  had  never  eaten  except  when  it  was  prepar- 
ed b)'  her  own  skilful  hands.  Nero  has  scarcely  tasted 
of  the  dish,  when  he  breaks  forth  into  lamentations 
over  the  daughter  with  whom  ils  delicacies  are  asso- 
ciated, and  anxiously  interrogates  his  young  hostess 
from  whom  she  had  learned  cookery.  The  runaway 
and  her  hunter  fall  at  his  feet :  Emperor  Nero  was  a 
kind-hearted  old  man ;  all  is  forgiven  ;  he  names  the 
S[)ot  the  Abode  of  Bliss,  in  commemoration  at  once  of 
his  dinner  and  his  daughter,  carries  the  pair  to  his  pa- 
lace, and  till  his  dying  day  eats  of  his  favourite  meal  as 
often  as  he  chooses.  Tlie  lovers  built  a  church  where 
their  hut  had  stood,  and  were  buried  together  within 
its  walls. 

Such  is  the  tradition  of  the  Franconian  peasant. 
There  is  no  doubt  that  the  church  was  built,  if  not  in 
the  reign,  yet  shortly  after  the  death  of  Charlemagne  ; 
but  it  is  just  as  little  doubtful  that,  in  its  present  form, 
it  belongs  to  a  much  later  age.  What  is  called  mo- 
dern tasle  has  been  guilty  of  an  unpardonable  breach 
of  good  taste.  The  bones  of  Eginhard  and  his  Emma 
reposed  in  a  massy  antique  sarcophagus  on  an  antique 
monument.  Some  ruthless  stone-hewer  has  been  al- 
lowed to  unhouse  the  ashes  of  the  lovers  from  their 
venerable  abode,  and  inclose  them  in  a  new  shining, 
toy-shop  chest.  These  are  men  who  would  set  "  Mar- 
garet's Ghost"  to  the  air  of  "Pray,  Goody,"  and  dash 
the  wallflower  from  a  ruin  to  plant  tulips  in  its  stead. 

This  Abode  of  Bliss  boasts  another  species  of  beati- 
tude. It  is  a  frontier  village  of  the  dutchy  of  Darm- 
stadt towards  Bavaria,  and  the  traveller  who  passes 
the  confines  for  the  first  time  must  submit  to  a  Bac- 
chanalian ceremony.  It  was  here  that,  in  the  olden 
time,  the  merchants  coming  to  the  fair  from  East,  and 
North,  and  South,  used  to  assemble.  Here  they  were 
accustomed  to  drink  deep  congratulations  on  the  jour- 
ney they  had  accomplished  in  safety,  and  good  wishes 
to  the  approaching  fair ;  and  from  hence  they  were 
5 


34  WEIMAR. 

conducted  in  triumph  Into  the  city  by  the  town  guards 
of  Frankfort.  They  had  procured  a  huge  wooden 
ladle  ;  the  handle  depends  from  a  wooden  chain  about 
three  feet  long,  and  both  ladle  and  chain  are  cut  out 
of  the  same  piece  of  wood.  This  relique  is  religious- 
ly j)reserved  in  an  inn  at  Seligenstadt.  Every  travel- 
ler who  passes  the  frontier  for  the  first  time  must 
drain  the  ladle,  brimful  of  wine,  (it  contains  a  bottle,) 
at  one  diaught.  This  is  the  strict  rule  ;  but,  in  gene- 
ral, he  can  escape  without  getting  drunk,  by  promising 
the  bystanders  the  remainder  of  the  bottle.  His  name 
is  then  enrolled  in  an  Album  which  has  now  leached 
the  third  folio  volume,  and  contains  the  names  of 
most  crowned  heads  in  Europe  during  the  last  two 
hundred  years. 


CHAPTER  II. 

WEIMAR. 

~Klein  ist  iinter  deii  Fiirsten  Germaniens  freylich  der  nieine, 

Kurz  und  schmal  ist  sein  Land,  massig  nur  was  er  veimag. 
Aber  so  wende  nach  innen,  so  vvende  nach  aussen  die  Krafte 
Jeder,  da  war  ein  Fest  Deutscher  mit  Deutsclier  zu  seyn 

Go  the. 

As  the  traveller  proceeds  northward  from  Frank- 
fort towards  Saxony,  the  vine-covered  hills  of  the 
Main  disappear  to  give  place  to  the  Thuringian 
Forest,  which  still  retains  its  name,  though  cultivation 
has  stri[)ped  much  of  it  of  its  honours.  The  country 
which  it  covered  forms  a  succession  of  low  rounded 
ridges,  which  inclose  broad  valleys  swarmJng  with  a 
most  industrious  population.  Except  towards  Cassel, 
where  many  summits  still  retain  their  covering  of 
beeches,  the  corn-field  and  orchard  have  only  allowed 
an  occasional    tuft   to  remain   round  the   cottages  for 


WEIMAR.  S5 

shelter,  or  to  crown  the  brow  of  the  hill  to  supply 
fuel.  To  the  territory  of  Cassel  succeeds  part  of  ihe 
Grand  Duchy  of  Weimar,  for,  between  the  Thurin- 
gian  for<}St  and  the  foot  of  the  Erzgebirge,  nestles  a 
crowd  of  the  small  princes  who,  by  family  iniluence, 
or  pohtical  services,  have  saved  their  insignificant  in- 
dependence. To  a  few  miles  of  Weimar  succeed 
a  few  miles  of  Gotha;  these  are  followed  by  a  slip 
ol  Prussia,  and  the  Prussian  fortress  Erfurth  ;  you 
are  scarcely  out  of  the  reach  of  the  cannon,  when 
you  are  out  of  the  territory,  and  find  yourself  again 
in  the  donnnions  of  the  Grand  Duke  of  Saxe- Weimar. 

Weimar,  the  capital  of  a  state  whose  whole  popu- 
lation does  not  exceed  two  hundred  thousand  souls, 
scarcely  deserves  the  name  of  a  town.  The  inhabi- 
tants, vain  as  they  are  of  its  well  earned  reputation 
as  the  German  Athens,  take  a  pride  in  having  it  con- 
sidered merely  as  a  large  village.  Neither  nature  nor 
art  has  done  anything  to  beautify  it  ;  there  is  scarcely 
a  straight  street,  nor,  excepting  the  palace,  and  the 
building  in  which  parliament  assembles,  is  there  a 
large  house  in  the  whole  town.  In  three  minutes  a 
person  can  be  as  completely  in  the  country  as  if  he 
were  twenty  miles  removed.  The  palace  is  imposing 
only  from  its  extent,  and  is  still  unfinished ;  for  the 
Grand  Duke,  having  made  as  much  of  it  habitable  as 
was  required  lor  his  own  court  and  the  family  of  his 
eldest  son,  is  tdt>  economical  v»^ith  the  money  of  his 
subjects  to  hasten  the  completion  of  his  palace,  before 
his  little  territory  shall  have  recovered  from  the  mi- 
sery and  exhaustion  which  began  with  the  battle  of 
Jena,  and  terminated  only  after  the  victory  at  Leipzig. 

Close  by  the  town,  the  Ilm  creeps  along,  a  narrow, 
muddy  stream,  devoid  of  rural  or  picturesque  beauty, 
and  confining  its  boastings  to  what  Schiller  has  put 
into  its  mouth,  in  "The  Rivers;" 


S6  WEIMAR. 

Though  poor  my  banks,  my  strenm  has  borne  along, 
On  its  still  waters,  many  a  deathless  song. 

Along  the  river  woods  have  heen  planted,  walks  laid 
out,  rocks  hewn  into  the  perpenclicular  where  they 
"Were  to  be  found,  and  plastered  up  into  monticules 
where  they  were  not  to  be  found,  all  to  form  a  park, 
or,  as  they  often  style  it,  an  English  garden.  In  the 
detail  of  ornament,  the  wits  of  Weimar  have  fallen 
into  some  littlenesses,  too  trifling  perhaps  to  be  notic- 
ed, were  it  not  that  here  we  expect  to  find  every 
thirig  correct  in  matters  of  taste,  because  Weimar  has 
been  the  nurse  of  the  taste  of  Germany.  It  is  quite 
allowable,  for  instance,  to  erect  an  altar  in  a  shady 
corner,  and  inscribe  it  Genio  loci  ;  but  though  a  ser- 
pent came  forth  from  beneath  the  altar  on  which 
iEneas  was  sacrificiiig  to  the  nianes  of  his  father,  and 
ate  uj)  the  cakes,  that  is  no  good  reason  why  a  stone 
snake  should  wind  himself  round  the  altar  of  the  Ge- 
nius of  the  English  garden  of  Weimar,  and  bite  into 
a  stone  roll  laid  for  him  on  the  top. 

It  is  nol  in  Weimar  that  the  gaiety,  or  the  loud  and 
loose  pleasures  of  a  capital  are  to  be  sought ;  there 
are  too  few  idle  people,  and  too  little  wealth,  for  fri- 
volous dissipation.  Without  either  spies  or  police, 
the  smallness  of  the  town  and  the  mode  of  life  place 
every  one  under  the  notice  of  the  court,  and  the  court 
has  never  allowed  its  literary  elegance  to  be  stained 
by  extravagant  parade,  or  licentiousness  of  conduct. 
The  nobility,  though  sufFicicntlj:  numerous  for  the  po- 
pulation, are  persons  of  but  moderate  fortunes  ;  many 
of  them  would  find  it  diflicult  to  plaj  their  part,  frugal 
and  regular  as  the  mode  of  life  is,  were  thej  not  en- 
gaged in  the  service  of  the  government  in  some  capa- 
city or  another,  as  ministers,  counsellors,  judges,  or 
chamberlains.  ,  There  is  not  much  dissoluteness  to  be 
feared  where  it  is  necessary  to  climb  an  outside  stair 
to  the  routs  of  a  minister,  and  a  lord  of  the  bedcham- 
ber gives,  in  a^tliird  floor,  parties  which  are  honoured 


THE  GRAND  DUKE.  S7 

with  the  presence  even  of  princes.  The  man  of  plea- 
sure wouid  find  Weimar  dull.  The  forenoon  is  devot- 
ed to  business;  even  tfie  straggling  few  who  have 
nothing  to  do  would  be  ashamed  to  show  themselves 
idle,  till  the  approach  of  an  early  dinner  hour  justifies 
a  walk  in  the  park,  or  a  ride  to  Belvedere.  At  six 
o'clock  every  one  hies  to  the  theatre,  which  is  just  a 
large  family  meeting,  excepting  that  the  Grand  Ducal 
personages  sit  in  a  separate  box.  The  performance 
closes  about  nine  o'clock,  and  it  is  expected  that,  by 
ten,  every  household  shall  be  sound  asleep,  or,  at  least, 
soberly  within  its  own  walls  for  the  night.  It  is  [»Gr- 
haps  an  evil  that,  in  these  small  capitals,  the  court, 
like  Aaron's  serpent,  swallows  up  evevy  other  species 
of  society  ;  but  at  Weimar  this  is  less  to  be  regretted, 
because  the  court  parties  have  less  parade  and  for- 
mality than  are  i'requently  to  be  found  in  those  of  pri- 
vate noblemen  in  London  or  Paris  :  it  is  merely  the 
best  bred,  and  best  informed  society  of  the  place. 

The  Grand  Duke  is  the  most  popular  prince  in  Eu- 
rope, and  no  |)rince  could  better  deserve  the  attach- 
ment which  his  people  lavish  upon  him.  We  have 
long  been  accustomed  to  laugh  at  the  pride  and  po- 
verty of  petty  German  princes;  but  nothing  can  give 
a  higher  idea  of  the  respectability  which  so  small  a 
people  may  assume,  and  the  quantity  of  happiness 
which  one  of  these  insignificant  monarchs  may  diffuse 
around  him,  than  the  example  of  this  little  state,  with 
a  prince  like  the  present  Grarjd  Duke  at  its  head. 
The  mere  pride  of  sovereignty,  frequently  most  pro- 
minent where  there  is  only  the  title  to  justify  it,  is  un- 
known to  him ;  he  is  the  most  affable  man  in  his  do- 
minions, not  simply  with  the  condescension  which  any 
prince  can  learn  to  practise  as  a  useful  quality,  but 
from  goodness  of  heart.  His  talents  are  farab^ne  me- 
diocrity ;  no  prince  could  be  less  attached  to  the  prac- 
tices of  arbitrary  power,  while  his  activity,  and  the 
conscientiousness  with  which  he  holds  himself  bound  to 


SS  WEIMAR. 

^vatch  over  the  welfare  of"  his  handful  of  subjects,  have 
never  f:llowed  hiin  to  be  blindly  guided  by  ministers. 
Much  of  his  reign  has  fallen  in  evil  times.  He  saw  his 
principality  overrun  wiih  greater  devastation  than  had 
visited  it  since  the  Thirty  Years'  War;  but  in  every 
vicissitude  he  knew  how  to  command  the  respect  even 
of  the  conqueror,  and  to  strengthen  himself  more  firm- 
ly in  the  affections  of  his  subjects.  During  the  whole 
of  his  long  reign,  the  conscientious  administration  of  the 
pubhc  money,  anxiety  for  the  impartiality  of  justice, 
the  instant  and  sincere  attention  given  to  every  mea- 
sure of  public  benefit,  the  ear  and  hand  always  open 
to  relieve  individual  misfortune,  the  efforts  which  he 
has  made  to  elevate  the  political  character  of  his  peo- 
ple, crowned  by  the  voluntary  introduction  of  a  repre- 
sentative government,  have  rendered  the  Grand  Duke 
of  Weimar  the  most  popular  prince  in  Germany  among 
his  own  subjects,  and  ought  to  make  him  rank  among 
the  most  res[)ectable  in  the  eyes  of  foreigners,  so  far 
as  respectability  is  to  be  measured  by  personal  merit, 
not  by  square  miles  of  territory,  or  milhons  of  revenue. 
His  people,  likewise,  justly  regard  him  as  having 
raised  their  small  state  to  an  eminence  from  which  its 
geographical  and  political  insignificance  seemed  to  have 
excluded  it.  Educated  by  Wieland,  he  grew  up  for 
the  arts,  just  as  the  literature  of  Germany  w^as  begin- 
ning to  triumph  over  the  obstacles  which  the  inditfer- 
ence  of  the  people,  and  the  naturalization  of  French 
literature,  favoured  by  sucii  prejudices  as  those  of  Fre- 
derick the  Great,  had  thrown  in  its  w^ay.  He  drew  to 
his  court  the  most  distinguished  among  the  rising  ge- 
niuses of  the  country  ;  beloved  their  arts,  he  could 
estimate  their  talents,  and  he  lived  among  them  as 
friends.  In  the  middle  of  the  last  century,  Germany 
could  scarcely  boast  of  possessing'  a  national  literature; 
her  very  language,  reckoned  unfit  for  the  higher  pro- 
ductions of  genius,  was  banished  from  cultivated  socie- 
ty, and  elegant  literature  :  at  the  beginning  of  the  pre- 


LITERATURE.  39 

sent,  there  were  few  departments  in  which   Germany 
could  not  vie  with  her   most    polished   neighhours.      It 
was  Weimar  that  took    the    lead  in    working   out   tliis 
great   chaiige.       To   say    nothing  of    lesser    worthies, 
Wieland  and  Schiller,  Gbthe    and    Herder,   are   names 
which    have   gained    immortality  for    themselves,  and 
founded  the  reputation  of  their  country  among  foreign- 
ers.     While  they  were  still  all  alive,  and  celebrated  in 
Weimar,  their  nodes  ccEuasque  dcorum^  the  court  was  a 
revival  of  that  of  Ferrara  under   Alphonso;  and  here, 
too,  as  there,  a  princely  female  was   the    centre  round 
which  the  lights  of  literature  revolved.     The  Duchess 
Amalia,  the  mother  of  the  present  Grand  Duke,  found 
herself  a  widow  almost  at  the  opening    of   her    youth. 
She  devoted  herself  to  the  education  of  her  two  infant 
sons;  she  had  sufficient    taste  and  strength  of  mind  to 
throw  off  the   prejudices  which   were    weighing  down 
the  native  genius  of  the   country,   and  she    sought    the 
consolation  of  her  \o\w  widowhood  in  the  intercourse  of 
men  of  talent,  and  the  cultivation  of  the    arts.     Wie- 
land was  invited    to  Weimar    to  conduct  the  education 
of  her  eldest  son,  who.  trained  under  such  a  tutor,  and 
by  the  example  of  such   a    mother,   early  imbibed  the 
same  attachment  to  genius,  and  the  enjoyments  which 
it  affords.     If  he  could  not  render  Weimar  the  seat  of 
German  politics,  or    German  industry,  he  could  render 
it  the  abode  of  German  genius.      While  the    treasures 
of  more  weighty  potentates    were   insufficient   to  meet 
the  necessity  of  their  political   relations,   his   confined 
revenues  could  give  independence  and  careless  leisure 
to  the  men  w  ho  weie  gaining  for  Germany  its  intellec- 
tual   reputation.     The    cultivated    understanding    and 
natural  goodness  of  their  protector  secured  tliem  against 
the  mortifications   to  which  genius   is  so  often  exposed 
by  the  pride  of   patronage.     Schiller  would   not  have 
endured  the  caprices  of  Frederick    for   a  day  ;  Goihe 
would  have    pined'  at  the  court    of  an    emperor  who 
could  publicly  tell   the  teachers    of  a  public  seminary. 


40  WEIMAR. 

"  I  want  no  learned  men,  I  need  no  learned  men.''  Na- 
poleon conferred  the  cross  of  the  Leojion  of  Honour  on 
Gothe  and  Wieland.  He  certainly  has  never  read  a 
syllable  which  either  of  them  has  written,  but  it  was, 
at  least,  an  honour  paid  to  men  of  splendid  and  ac- 
knowledged genius. 

It  was  fortunate  for  Weimar,  that  the  talent  assem- 
bled within  it  took  a  direction  which  threw  off,  at  once, 
the  long  endured  reproach,  that  Germany  could  pro- 
duce minds  only  fitted  tocom[)ile  dry  chronicles,  or  plod 
on  in  the  sciences.  The  wit  and  vanity  of  the  French, 
aided  by  the  melancholy  blindness  of  some  German 
princes,  had  spread  this  belief  over  Europe.  It  is  not 
didicuit  to  conceive  that  Voltaire  should  have  treated 
Germany  as  the  abode  of  commonplace  learning,  where 
the  endless  repetition  of  known  facts  or  old  doctrines, 
in  new  compends  and  compilations,  seemed  to  argue  an 
incapacity  of  original  thinking;  but  it  is  more  difficult 
to  conceive  that  a  monarch  like  Frederick,  who  pos- 
sessed some  literary  talent  himself,  and  affected  a  de- 
voted attachment  to  literary  merit,  should  have  adopt- 
ed so  mistaken  an  opinion  of  a  country  which  he  must 
have  known  so  much  better  than  his  Gallic  retinue. 
Yet  he  had  taken  up  this  belief  in  its  most  prejudiced 
form.  Instead  of  cherishing  the  German  genius  that 
was  already  preparing  to  ^ive  the  lie  to  the  wits  of 
France,  he  amused  himself  with  railing  at  her  lan- 
guage, laughing  at  the  gelehrte  Dimkelheit,  or  "  erudite 
obscurity"  of  her  learned  men,  and  proscribing  from 
his  conversation  and  his  library  every  thing  that  was 
not  French,  except  the  reports  of  his  ministers,  and  the 
muster-rolls  of  his  army.  The  delirium  spread  to  less 
important  princes,  and  caught  all  the  upper  ranks  of 
society.  The  native  genius  of  the  country,  scarcely 
venturing  to  claim  toleration,  wandered  forth  in  exile 
to  the  mountains  of  Switzerland.  On  the  banks  of  the 
lake  of  Zurich,  where  a  small  society  of  literati  had  as- 
sembled, Wieland  followed,  unknown  and    unnoticed, 


LITERATURE.  41 

the  pursuits  which  soon  placed  him  among  the  fore- 
most men  of  his  age.  The  house  of  Baden  gave  its 
countenance  to  Klopstock,  and  Lessing  had  found  pro- 
tection in  Brunswick  ;  but  it  was  Weimar  that  first  em- 
budied,  as  it  were,  the  genius  of  the  country,  and  that 
genius  speedily  announced  itself  in  a  voice  which,  at 
once,  recalled  Germany  from  her  error.  The  Parisi- 
ans, who,  a  few  years  ago,  would  have  reckoned  it  in- 
fidelity to  the  muses  to  open  a  German  book,  have  con- 
descended to  translate  Schiller,  and  translate  him  al- 
most as  successfully  as  they  do  Shakespeare  or  the 
Scottish  Novels.  How  truly  did  Schiller  sing  of  the 
muse  of  his  country,* 

For  her  bloomed  no  Augustan  age  j 
No  Medicean  patronage 

Smiled  on  her  natal  hour; 
She  was  not  nursed  by  sounds  of  fame ; 
No  ray  of  princely  favour  came 

To  unfold  the  tender  flower. 

The  greatest  son  of  Germany, 
Even  Frederick,  bade  her  turn  away 

Unhonoured  from  his  throne  : 
Proudly  the  German  bard  can  tell, 
And  higher  may  his  bosom  swell, 

He  formed  himself  alone. 

Hence  the  proud  stream  of  German  song 
Still  rolls  in  mightier  waves  along, 

A  tide  for  ever  full  ; 
From  native  stores  its  waters  bringing. 
Fresh  from  the  heart's  own  fountain  springing, 

Scofls  at  the  yoke  of  rule. 

None  of  the  distinguished  leaders  of  the  "  German 
Athens"  belonged  to  the  Grand  Duchy  itself.  Wie- 
land  was  a  Swabian,  and  the  increasing  body  of  literary 
light  collected  round  him  as  a  nucleus.  The  jealousies 
of  rival  authors  are  proverbial,  but  at  Weimar  they 
seem  to  have  been  unknown.     They  often  opposed 

*  Die  Deutsche  Muse. 


42  WEIMAR. 

each  other,  sometimes  reviewed  each  other's  books,  but 
admitted  no  ungenerous  hostihties.  Wieland  rejoiced 
when  Gbthe  and  Herder  were  invited  to  be  his  com- 
panions, although  both  were  vehement  opponents  of 
the  critical  principles  which  he  promulgated  in  the 
German  Mercury.  Gothe  had  even  written  a  biting 
satire  against  him,  "Gods,  Heroes,  and  Wieland," 
'which,  though  not  intended  for  publication,  had,  never- 
theless, found  its  way  into  the  world.  Gothe  himself 
has  recorded  how  the  young  Duke  sought  him  out  in 
Frankfort.  Schiller  was  first  placed  in  a  chair  at  Jena; 
but  the  state  of  his  health,  which,  though  it  could  not 
damp  the  fire  of  his  genius,  converted  his  latter  years 
into  years  of  suffering,  unfitted  him  for  professional  oc- 
cupation, and  he  was  placed  in  independence  at  Wei- 
mar. 

Wieland,  the  patriarch  of  the  tribe,  seems  likewise 
to  have  been  the  most  enthusiastically  beloved.  All 
who  remember  him  speak  of  him  with  rapture,  and  it 
is  easy  to  conceive  that  the  author  of  Oberon  and  of 
Agathon,  and  the  translator  of  Cicero's  Letters,  must 
have  been  a  delightful  combination  of  acuteness  and 
wit,  no  ordinary  powers  of  original  thinking  united  to 
a  fancy,  rich,  elegant,  and  playful.  To  the  very  close 
of  his  long  life,  he  continued  to  be  the  pride  of  the 
old  and  the  delight  of  the  young.  Much  less  a  man  of 
the  world  than  Gbthe,  he  commanded  equal  respect, 
and  greater  attachment.  Gbthe  has  been  accused  of 
a  too  jealous  sensibility  about  his  literary  character, 
and  a  constantly  sustained  authorial  dignity,  which  have 
exposed  him  to  the  imputation  of  being  vain  and 
proud.  Wieland  gave  himself  no  anxiety  about  his  re- 
putation ;  except  when  the  pen  was  in  his  hand,  he 
forgot  there  were  such  things  in  the  world  as  books 
and  authors,  and  strove  only  to  render  himself  an 
agreeable  companion.  The  young  people  of  the  court 
were  never  happier  than  when,  on  a  summer  evening, 
they  could  gather  round  "  Father  Wieland"   in  the 


SCHILLER.  43 

shades  of  Tiefurth,  or  the  garden  of  his  own  little 
country  residence.  Writers  of  books  sometimes  mis- 
understood the  man,  and  talked  of  him  as  a  trifler, 
because  he  did  not  always  look  like  a  folio;  Wieland 
smiled  at  their  absurdities.  Gothe,  too,  got  into  a 
passion  with  people  whose  visits  he  had  permitted,  and 
who  then  put  him  into  their  books,  not  altogether  in 
the  eulogistic  style  which  he  expects,  and,  moreover, 
deserves;  but,  instead  ot  treating  such  things  with  in- 
difference, he  made  himself  more  inaccessible,  and  as- 
sumed a  statelier  dignity. 

Poor  Schiller,  while  taking  the  lead  of  all  his  com- 
petitors in  the  race  of  immortality,  could  not  keep 
abreast  with  them  in  the  enjoyments  of  the  world. 
Tender  and  kindly  as  his  disposition  was,  his  genius 
sought  its  food  in  the  lofty  and  impassioned.  In  his 
lyrical  pieces  he  seldom  aimed  at  lightness,  and  mere 
elegance  was  a  merit  which  he  thoroughly  despised. 
Continued  sickliness  of  body  excluded  him,  in  a  great 
measure,  from  the  world,  and  the  closing  years  of  his 
too  short  life  were  spent  in  scarcely  remitting  agony. 
Yet  how  his  genius  burned  to  the  last  with  increasing 
"warmth  and  splendour !  It  would  be  too  much  to  say 
that  he  lived  long  enough  for  his  fame  ;  for,  though 
he  gained  immortality,  his  later  productions  rise  so  far 
above  his  earlier  works,  that  he  assuredly  would  have 
approached  still  nearer  to  perfection. 

No  German  poet  deserves  better  to  be  known  than 
Schiller,  yet  his  most  successful  efforts  are  least  gene- 
rally known  among  us.  His  merits  are  by  no  means 
confined  to  the  drama ;  whoever  is  not  acquainted 
with  Schiller's  Lyrical  Poems,  is  ignorant  of  his  most 
peculiar  and  inimitable  productions.  In  the  ballad,  he 
aimed  at  the  utmost  simplicity  of  feeling,  and  narrative, 
and  diction.  It  would  scarcely  be  too  much  to  say 
that,  in  this  style,  his  "  Knight  To^genburt!:"  has  no 
equal ;  in  German  it  certainly  has  none.  Its  very  sim- 
plicity, however,    is   a  great  obstacle  in  the  way   of 


44  WEIMAR. 

translation ;  for  this  is  a  quality  which  is  apt,  in  pass- 
ing into  another  language,  to  degenerate  into  what  is 
trivial  or  familiar. 


KNIGHT  TOGGENBURG. 

"  Knight,  to  love  thee  like  a  sister 

Swears  to  thee  this  heart ; 
Do  not  ask  a  fonder  passion, 

For  it  makes  me  smart. 
Tranquil  would  I  be  before  thee, 

Tranquil  see  thee  go  ; 
And  what  that  silent  tear  would  say, 

1  must  not — dare  not  know." 

* 

He  tears  himself  away  ;  the  heart 

In  silent  woe  must  bleed  ; 
A  fiery,  but  a  last  embrace — 

He  springs  upon  his  steed ; 
From  hill  and  dale  of  Switzerland 

He  calls  his  trusty  band  ; 
They  bind  the  cross  upon  the  breast, 

And  seek  the  Holy  Land. 

And  there  were  deeds  of  high  renown 

Wrought  by  the  hero's  arm  ; 
Where  thickest  thronged  the  foemen  round, 

His  plume  waved  in  their  swarm  ; 
Till,  at  the  Toggenburger's  name. 

The  Mussulman  would  start : 
But  nought  can  heal  the  hidden  wo 

The  sickness  of  the  heart. 

A  year  he  bears  the  dreary  load 

Of  life  when  love  is  lost ; 
The  peace  he  chases  ever  flies ; 

He  leaves  the  Christian  host. 
He  finds  a  bark  on  Joppa's  strand  ; 

Her  sail  already  fills  ; 
It  bears  him  home  where  the  beloved 

Breathes  on  his  native  hills. 

The  love-worn  pilgrim  reached  her  hall ; 

Knocked  at  her  castle  gate  ; 
Alas !  it  opened  but  to  speak 

The  thunder  voice  of  fate  : 


SCHILLER.  45 

"  She  whom  you  seek  now  wears  the  veil; 

Her  troth  to  God  is  given  ; 
The  pomp  and  vow  of  yesterday 

Have  wedded  her  to  Heaven." 

Straight  to  the  castle  of  his  sires 

For  aye  he  bids  adieu; 
He  sees  no  more  his  trusty  steed, 

Nor  blade  so  tried  and  true. 
Descending  from  the  Toggenburg, 

Unknown  he  seeks  the  vale  : 
For  sackcloth  wraps  his  lordly  limbs, 

Instead  of  knightly  mail. 

Where  from  the  shade  of  dusky  limes 

Peei^s  forth  the  convent  tower. 
He  chose  a  nigh  and  silent  spot, 

And  built  hiras^lf  a  bower. 
And  there,  from  morning's  early  dawn. 

Until  the  twilight  shone. 
With  silent  hope  within  his  eye, 

The  hermit  sat  alone  ; 

Up  to  the  convent  many  an  hour 

Gazed  patient  from  beiow, 
Up  i.o    re  lattice  of  his  love, 

Until  it  oppred  slow  ; 
TJii  the  dear  form  appeared  above, 

Till  she  he  loved  so  well, 
Placid  and  miid  as  angels  are. 

Looked  forth  upon  the  dell. 

Contented  then  he  laid  him  down  ; 

Blythe  dreams  came  to  his  rest ; 
He  knew  that  morn  would  dawn  again, 

And  in  the  thought  was  blest. 
Thus  many  a  day  and  many  a  year, 

The  hermit  sat  and  hoped  ; 
Nor  wept  a  tear,  nor  felt  a  pang, 

And  still  the  lattice  oped ; 

And  the  dear  form  appeared  above, 

And  she  he  loved  so  well. 
Placid  and  mild  as  angels  are, 

Looked  forth  upon  the  dell. 
And  thus  he  sat,  a  stiffened  corpse, 

One  morn  as  day  returned. 
His  pale  and  placid  countenance 

Still  to  the  lattice  turned. 


46  WEIMAR. 

Even  in  the  drama,  most  English  readers  judge  of 
Schiller  only  from  the  Robbers,  a  boyish  production, 
which  gave,  indeed,  distinct  promise  of  the  fruit  that 
was  to  come,  but  is  no  more  a  sample  of  Schiller,  than 
Titus  Andronicus  would  be  of  Shakespeare.  It  is  im- 
possible to  form  any  idea  of  the  German  dramatist 
without  knowing  his  Don  Carlos,  Mary  Stuart,  the 
Bride  of  Messina,  and,  higher  than  them  all,  Wallen- 
stein.  It  was  an  unworthy  tribute  to  living  genius,  to 
select  Gbthe's  Iphis^enia  for  the  opening  of  the  new 
theatre  in  Berlin;  for,  high  and  multifarious  as  Gothe's 
merits  are,  Schiller  will  always  remain  the  great  na- 
tional dramatic  poet  of  Germany.  Before  his  time, 
her  tragic  muse  had  seldom  risen  above  damning  me- 
diocrity;  and  ages  will  probably  elapse  before  another 
appear  to  raise  her  to  the  same  honours.  Wiienever 
a  traoredy  of  Schiller  was  to  be  performed,  I  never 
found  an  empty  theatre  in  any  corner  of  Germany. 
Moreover,  on  such  occasions,  the  theatre  is  not  crowd- 
ed with  the  usual  regular  play-going  loungers,  who 
spend  a  couple  of  hours  in  a  box  because  they  have 
nothing  else  to  do;  the  audience  consists  chiefly  of 
respectable  citizens,  who  feel  much  more  truly  what 
nature  and  passion  are,  than  the  ribboned  aristocracy 
of  Berlin  or  Vienna.  Schiller  nursed  his  genius  by 
studying  Shakespeare  ;  and  it  is  wonderful  how  little 
an  Encrlishman  regrets  Drury-Lane  or  Covent-Garden, 
when  Madame  Schroder,  at  Vienna,  plays  Lady  Mac- 
beth in  Schiller's  translation.  We  cannot  be  surprised 
that  Shakespeare  is  admired;  but  we  owe,  at  least, 
our  gratitude  to  those  who  have  introduced  him  to  a 
people  more  able  to  appreciate  his  excellence  than 
any  other  except  ourselves  ;  and  that,  too,  in  a  dress 
which,  from  the  affinity  of  the  languages,  when  in  the 
haiids  of  such  men  hs  Wielaiid  and  Schiller,  Schleorel 
and  Voss,  impairs  so  little  the  original  form.  In- 
stead of  sneering  at  the  German  drama,  we  ought  to 
be  inchned  in  its  favour  by  the  fact,  that  it  is  the  dra- 


GOETHE.  47 

raa  of  a  people  which  worships  at  the  altar  of  our  un- 
equalled dramatist  with  as  heart-felt  devotion  as  any 
believer  among  ourselves.  Shakespeare  would  seem 
to  have  been  bestowed  upon  us,  at  once  to  maintain 
the  supremacy  of  our  country,  and  to  teach  us  humili- 
ty by  the  relicction,  that  it  was  given  to  no  other,  even 
among  ourselves,  to  follow  his  course  ; — a  comet  hung 
in  our  sky,  to  be  gazed  on,  and  wondered  at  by  us  in 
common  with  the  rest  of  the  world,  but  as  far  beyond 
our  reach,  though  blazing  in  our  zenith,  as  to  those 
who  only  caught  his  more  distant  rays. 

Of  the  sages  and  poets  of  Weimar  Gothe  alone 
survives.  One  after  another,  he  has  sung  the  dirge 
over  Herder,  and  Wieland,  and  Schiller:  ''his  tuneful 
brethren  all  are  fled."  But,  lonely  as  he  now  is  in  the 
world  of  genius,  it  could  be  less  justly  said  of  him  than 
of  any  other  man,  that  he, 

neglected  and  oppressed, 
Wished  to  be  with  them,  and  at  rest; 

— for  no  living  author,  at  least  of  Germany,  can  boast 
of  so  long  and  brilliant  a  career.  At  once  a  man  of 
genius  and  a  man  of  the  world,  Gothe  has  made  his 
way  as  an  accomplished  courtier,  no  less  than  as  a 
great  poet.  He  has  spent  in  Weimar  more  than  one  half 
of  his  prolific  life,  the  object  of  enthusiastic  admiration 
to  his  countrymen  ;  honoured  by  sovereigns,  to  whom 
his  muse  has  never  been  deficient  in  respect;  the 
friend  of  his  prince,  who  esteems  him  the  first  man  on 
earth;  and  caressed  by  all  the  ladles  of  Germany,  to 
whose  reasonable  service  he  has  devoted  himself  from 
his  youth  upwards.  It  is  only  necessary  to  know 
what  Gothe  still  is  in  his  easy  and  friendly  moments,  to 
conceive  how  justly  the  universal  voice  describes  him 
as  having  been  in  person,  manners,  and  talent,  a  capti- 
vating man.  Tliouorh  he  is  now  seventy-four  vears 
old,  his  tall  imposinu  form  is  but  little  bent;  the  lotty 
open  brow  retains  all  its  dignity,  and  even  the  eye  has 
not  lost  much  of  its  fire.     The  eifects  of  age  are  chief- 


48  WEIMAR. 

\j  perceptible  in  an  occasional  indistinctness  of  articula- 
tion. Much  has  been  said  of  the  jealousy  with  which 
he  guards- his  literary  reputation,  and  the  haughty  re- 
serve with  wliich  this  jealousy  is  alleged  to  surround 
his  iiitercourse.  Those  who  felt  it  so  must  either  have 
been  persons  whose  own  reputation  rendered  him  cau- 
tious in  their  presence,  or  whose  doubtful  intentions 
laid  him  under  still  more  unpleasant  restraints;  for  he 
sometimes  siiuts  his  door,  and  often  his  mouth,  from 
the  dread  of  being  mi  properly  put  into  books.  His 
conversation  is  unalfected,  gentlemanly,  and  entertain- 
ing :  in  the  neatness  and  point  of  his  expressions,  no 
less  than  in  his  works,  the  first  German  classic,  in  re- 
gard of  language,  is  easily  recognized.  He  has  said 
somewhere,  that  he  considered  himself  to  have  acquir- 
ed only  one  talent,  that  of  writing  German.  He  mani- 
fests no  love  of  display,  and  least  of  all  in  his  favourite 
studies.  It  is  not  uncommon,  indeed,  to  hear  people 
say,  that  they  did  not  find  in  Gothe's  conversation 
any  striking  proof  of  the  genius  which  animates  his 
writings;  but  this  is  as  it  should  be.  There  are  few 
more  intolerable  personages  than  those  who,  having 
once  acquired  a  reputation  for  cleverness,  think  them- 
selves bound  never  to  open  their  mouths  without  say- 
ing something  which  they  take  to  be  smart  or  uncom- 
mon. 

The  approach  of  age,  and  certain  untoward  circum- 
stances which  wounded  his  vanity,  have,  at  length, 
driven  Gothe  into  retirement.  He  spends  the  winter 
in  Weimar,  but  no  man  is  less  seen.  Buried  among 
his  books  and  engravings,  making  himself  master  of 
every  thing  worth  reading  in  German,  English,  French, 
and  Italian,  he  has  said  adieu  to  worldly  pleasures  and 
gaieties,  and  even  to  much  of  the  usual  intercourse  of 
society.  Not  long  ago,  he  attended  a  concert,  given  at 
court,  in  honour  of  a  birth-day.  He  was  late  :  when 
he  entered  the  room,  the  music  instantly  ceased ;  all 
forgot  court  and  princes  to  gather  round  Gothe,  and 


GOETHE.  49 

the  Grand  Duke  himself  advanced  to  lead  up  his  old 
friend. 

For  nearly  five  years  he  has  deserted  the  theatre, 
which  used  to  be  the  scene  of  his  greatest  glory.  By 
the  weight  of  his  reputation  and  directorship,  he  had 
established  such  a  despotism,  that  the  spectators  would 
have  deemed  it  treason  to  applaud  before  Gothe  had 
given,  from  his  box^  the  signal  of  approbation.  Yet  a 
dog  and  a  woman  could  drive  him  from  the  theatre 
and  the  world.  Most  people  know  the  French  melo- 
drame,  The  Forest  of  Bondy,  or  the  Dog  of  St.  Au- 
bry.  The  piece  became  a  temporary  favourite  in 
Germany,  as  well  as  in  France,  for  it  was  something 
new  to  see  a  mastiff  play  the  part  of  a  tragic  hero. 
An  attempt  was  made  to  have  it  represented  in  Wei- 
mar. Gothe,  who,  after  the  death  of  Schiller,  reign- 
ed, absolute  monarch  of  the  theatre,  resisted  the  de- 
sifi^n  with  vehemence;  he  esteemed  it  a  profanation  of 
the  stao;e  which  he  and  his  brethren  had  raised  to  the 
rank  of  the  purest  in  Germany,  that  it  should  be  pol- 
luted by  dumb  men,  noisy  spectacle^  and  the  barkings 
of  a  mastiff,  taught  to  pull  a  bell  by  tying  a  sausage  to 
the  bell  rope.  But  his  opposition  was  in  vain ;  the 
principal  actress  insisted  that  the  piece  should  be  per- 
formed, and  this  lady  has  long  possessed  peculiar  sour- 
ces of  influence  over  the  Grand  Duke.  The  dog 
made  his  debut  and  Gothe  his  exit ;  the  latter  imme- 
diately resigned  the  direction  of  the  theatre,  which 
he  has  never  since  entered,  and  took  advantage  of  this 
good  pretext  to  withdraw  into  the  more  retired  life 
which  he  has  since  led. 

At  Jena,  where  he  generally  spends  the  summer 
and  autumn,  he  mixes  more  with  the  world;  and  he 
occasionally  mdulges  in  a  month's  recreation  at  To[> 
litz  or  Carlsbad,  where,  among  princes  and  nobles,  he 
is  still  the  great  object  of  public  curiosity.  Among  the 
erudite  professors  of  Jena,  there  are  more  than  one 
"who  do  not  seem  to  entertain  much  respect  for  him, 

7 


5©  WEIMAR. 

and  have  written  and  done  mortifying  things  against 
him.  One  of  the  few  clouds,  for  example,  which  liave 
passed  over  the  sky  of  his  literary  Hfe,  was  an  article 
m  the  Edinburgh  Review,  some  years  ago,  on  his  me- 
moirs of  himself.  It  vexed  him  exceedingly;  but  the 
most  vexatious  thino;  of  all  was,  that  one  of  his  ene- 
mies  at  Jena  translated  it  into  German,  and  circulated 
it  with  malicious  industry. 

Gothe  stands  pre-eminent  above   all  his  countrymen 
in    versatility  and    universality  of  genius.     There  are 
few  departments  which  he  has  not   attempted,  and  in 
many  he  has   gained    the  first   honours.     There  is  no 
mode  of  the  lyre  through  which   he  has  not  run,  song, 
epigram,  ode,   elegy,  ballad,  opera,  comedy,  tragedy^ 
the  lofty  epic,  and   that  anomalous   production  of  the 
German  Parnassus,  the   civil  epic,  (^Burger liche  Epos,^ 
which,  forsaking  the  deeds  of  heroes  and  the  fates  of 
nations,  sings   in  sounding  hexameters  the  simple  lives 
and    loves  of  citizens   and    farmers.     Yet    the   muses 
have    been  far  from   monopolizing  the  talents  of  this 
indefatigable    man.      As   they  were   the    first   love,  so 
they  are  still  the  favourites  of  his  genius;  but  he   has 
coquetted  with    numberless  rivals,  and  mineralogy,  cri- 
ticism on  the  fine  arts,  biography  and  topography,  sen- 
timental and  philosophical  novels,  optics  and  compara- 
tive anatomy,  have    all  employed  his   pen.     His   lucu- 
brations in  the  sciences   have   not   commanded  either 
notice  or  admiration;   to  write  well  on  every  thing,  it 
is  not  enough  to  take  an  interest  in  every  thing.     It  is 
in  the  fine  arts,  in    poetry  as  an  artist,  in  painting  and 
sculpture  as    a  critic,   that   Gothe  justifies    the   fame 
which    he    has    been   accumulating   for  fifty  years  ; — 
for  his  productions  in   this  department  contain  an  as- 
semblage of  dissimilar  excellences   which    none  of  his 
countrymen    can    produce,     though    individually  they 
might  be  equalled  or  surpassed.     Faust  alone,  a  poem 
which  only  a  German  can  thoroughly  feel  or  understand, 
is  manifestly  the  production  of  a  genius  quit^  at  home 


GOETHE.  51 

in  every  thing  with  which  poetrj  deals,  and  master  of 
all  the  styles  which  poetry  can  adopt.  Tasso  deserves 
the  name  oi'  a  drama,  only  because  it  is  in  dialogue, 
and  it  becomes  intolerably  tiresome  when  declairjicd 
by  actors;  but  it  is  from  beginning  to  end  a  stream  of 
the  richest  and  purest  poetry.  It  is  an  old  story,  that 
his  first  celebrated  work,  Werther,  turned  the  heads 
of  all  Germany  ;  young  men  held  themselves  bound  to 
fall  in  love  with  the  wives  of  their  friends,  and  then 
blow  out  their  own  brains;  it  is  averred,  that  con- 
summations of  this  sort  actually  took  place.  The  pub- 
lic admiration  of  the  young  author,  who  could  paint 
with  such  force,  was  still  warm,  when  he  gave  them 
that  most  spirited  sketch,  Gotz  of  Berlichingen  with 
the  Iron  Hand,  a  picture  of  the  feudal  manners  of 
their  forefathers.  The  reading  and  writing  world 
immediately  thiew  themselves  into  this  new  channel, 
and  German  presses  and  German  stages  groaned  be- 
neath the  knights,  the  abbots,  the  battles,  and  the  ban- 
quets of  the  fifteenth  century.  Like  every  man  of 
original  genius,  he  had  novelty  in  his  favour;  and,  like 
every  successful  adventurer  in  what  is  new,  he  was 
followed  by  a  host  of  worthless  imitators  and  insipid 
mannerists. 

The  regular  novels  of  Gothe  are  of  a  very  question- 
able sort.  The  vivacity  of  his  injagination  and  fine- 
ness of  feeling  supply  good  individual  pictures  and 
acute  remarks;  but  they  cannot  be  [iralsed  either  for 
incident  or  character.  They  are  often  stained,  too, 
v^ith  the  degradation  to  which  he  unfortunately  re- 
duces love,  where  liking  and  vice  follow  fast  upon 
each  other.  "The  Apprenticeship  of  William  Meisi- 
ter,"  for  instance,  is  a  very  readable  book,  in  so  far  as 
it  contains  a  great  deal  of  acute  and  eloquent  criti- 
cism ;  but  who  would  purchase  the  criticism,  even  of 
Gothe,  at  the  expense  of  the  licentiousness  of  incident, 
and  pruriency  of  description,  with  which  the  book 
teems?  He  now  devotes  himself  chiefly  to  philoso- 
phical and  critical  disquisitions  on  the  fine  arts. 


52  WEIMAR. 

It  is  scarcely  possible  for  a  man  who  has  written  so 
much,  not    to    have  written    much    that    is  mediocre. 
Gfithe,  having  long  since  reached  that  point  of  reputa- 
tion at  which  the  name  of  an  author  is  identified,  in  the 
eyes  of  his  countrvnien,   with    the  excellence   of  his 
work,  has  been  frequently  overrated,  and  men  are  not 
awanting  who  augur  that  the  best  of   his  fame  is  past. 
But  he  can  well  atford    to   make  many  allowances  for 
the  excesses  into  which  popular  enthusiasm,  like  popu- 
lar dislike,  is  so  easily  misled;  for  there  will  always  re- 
main an  abundance  of  original,  and  varied,  and  power- 
ful genius,  to  unite  his   name  for  ever  with  the  litera- 
ture of  his  country.      He  himself  said  truly  of  Schiller, 
that  where  the  present  age  had   been  deficient,  poste- 
rity would  be  profuse,  and  the  proj)hecy  is  already  re- 
ceiving its  fulfilment.     To  Gothe  the  present  has  been 
lavish,  and   the  future   will   not    be    unjust.     From  his 
youth,  he  has  been  the  favourite  of  fortune  and  fame; 
he  has  reached  the  brink  of  the  grave,  hailed    by  the 
voice  of  his  country  as  the  foremost  of  her  great,  the 
patriarch  of  her  literature,  and  the  model  of  her  genius. 
In  his  old  age,  wrapped  up  in  the  seclusion  of  Weimf^r, 
so  becoming  his  years  and  so  congenial    to   his  habits, 
he  hears  no  sounds  but  those  of  eulogy  and  atfection. 
Like  an  eastern  potentate,  or  a  jealous  deity,  he  looks 
abroad  from  his   retirement   on  the  intellectual  world 
which  he  has  formed  by  his    precept  or  his  'ixample  ; 
he  pronounces  the  oracular  doom,  or  sends  forth    a  re- 
velation, and  men  wait  on   him  to  venerate  and  obey. 
Princes  are  proud  to  be  his  companions  ;  less  elevated 
men  approach  him  with    awe,  as  a  higher  spirit ;  and 
when  Gothe  shall  follow   the  kindred  minds  whom  he 
has  seen  ,'as;   away  before  him,  Weimar  will  have  lost 
the  last  ;)illar  of  her  fame,    and   in    the    literature  of 
German    there  will  be  a  vacant  throne. 

Since  the  mastiff,  backed    by    the   influence   of  Ma- 
dame J n,  drove  Gothe  from  the  direction  ol"  the 

theatre,  it    has  been    rapidly  declining   from  its  emi- 


THE  STAGE.  53 

nonce.  He  and  Schiller  had  trained  the  whole  corps 
dram.atique,  and  created  that  chaste,  correct  style  of 
representation  which  formed  the  peculiarity  of  the 
Weiroar  School.  Eveiy  thing  like  rant  disappeared 
from  tiie  staj^c,  hut  the  opposite  extreme  was  not  al- 
ways avoided;  anxiety  to  observe  the  great  rule  of 
not  "  o'erstepping  the  modesty  of  nature,"  so?netimes 
brought  down  tragedy  to  the  subdued  tone  and  gesture 
of  serious  conversation.  The  patience  with  whicU  he 
drilled  the  peiformers  into  a  thorough  comprehension 
of  their  parts  was  most  meritorious;  it  produced  that 
accurate  conception  of  character,  the  foundation  of  all 
histrionic  excellence,  which  distinguished  the  stage  of 
Weimar  above  every  other  in  Germany,  and  which, 
now  that  the  guiding  hand  and  spirit  have  been  with- 
drawn, is  disappearing  even  there.  It  was  a  common 
saying,  that  elsewhere  particular  things  might  be  bet- 
ter done,  but  in  Weimar  every  thing  was  well  done. 
The  administration  passed    into  the  hands   of  Madame 


J n,  who,  now  reigning  absolutely  in  the  green- 
room, has  already  contrived  by  pride,  and  vanity,  and 
caprice,  to  sow  abundantly  the  seeds  both  of  deteriora- 
tion and  contention.  Bad  taste  in  selecting,  w^ant  of 
judgment  in  casting,  and  carelessness  in  performing,  are 
become  as  common  m  Weimar  as  any  where  else. 
People  are  not  blind  to  the  progress  of  the  corruption, 
but  the  predominating  influence  stands  on  that  founda- 
tion which  it  is  most  difficult  to  shake;  and,  unfortu- 
nately, no  expression  of  displeasure  is  allowed  in  the 
theatre  itself:  it  is  regarded  as  a  private,  court  thea- 
tre, where  good  breeding  permits  only  approbation  or 
silence.  If  a  prince  maintain  a  place  of  amusement  for 
the  public  at  his  own  expense,  he  may  have  some  pre- 
text for  saying,  that  you  shall  either  stay  away,  or  be 
quiet;  but,  when  he  takes  vuur  money  at  the  door,  he 
certainly  sells  you  the  right  of  growlin*;!^  at  the  enter- 
tainment, if  it  be  badly  cooked,  or  slovenly  served  up. 
The  liberty  of  hissing   is  as  essential  to  the  good  con- 


54  WEIMAR. 

stitution  of  a  theatre,  as  the  liberty  of  the  press  to  the 
constitution  of  a  state.     Three-fourths  of  all   the   ex- 
pences,  howev^er,  come  out  of  the  |^>ocket  of  the  Grand 
Duac;  for,  to  the  abonnes^  a   place   in   the  boxes  costs 
oiilj  iiine-pence  every  evening,  and  in  the  pit  fourperice. 
S{)ec{ators  who  are  not  abonnes  pav  more  than  double 
this  price  ;   but  these  consist  only    of  occasional  stran- 
gers, and  the   students  who  pour  over  every  Saturday 
from  Jena,  and  throng  the  pit.     These  young  men  have, 
in  such  matters,  a    thorough   contempt   for   menm   and 
timm ;    with   them    it   is  always    abonnemcnt   suspendu. 
They  cannot  imagine   that   any  man  should    have   the 
impertinence  to  claim  his  place,  if  a  student  has  chosen 
to  occupy  it  ;  and  they  are   ready  to    maintain,   at    the 
point  of  the  sword,  the  privilegfes  of  their  brotherhood. 
Schiller's  Robbers  never   fails  to  bring  the  whole  uni- 
versity to  Woimar,  for  the  siudeits  seem  to  find  in  the 
bandit  life  somethiriij  peculiarly  consonant  to  their  own 
ideas  of  libertj  and  independence.      When  the  robbers 
O'jen  the  fifth  act  with  the    song   in    which  they  cele- 
brate the  joys  of  their  occupation,    the   students    stand 
up  in  a  body,  and  join  vociferously  in  the  strain. 

It  may  be  thought  trifling  to  say  so  much  about  a 
theatre;  but  the  only  thing  that  gives  Weimar  a  name 
is  its  literarv  reputation;  and  in  this  reputation  the 
character  of  the  stas^e  formed  a  popular  and  important 
eleaient,  and  exercised  a  weiglity  influence  on  the  pub- 
lic taste.  It  is,  likewise,  almost  the  only  amusement  to 
vs^hich  the  inhabitants  of  this  celebrated  village  have 
accustomed  themselves.  Tims  their  vanity  is  inter- 
ested no  less  than  their  love  of  amusement  ;  and, 
thouo-h  it  mav  scarcely  be  thought  advisable,  in  so  poor 
a  country,  to  take  a  large  sum  from  the  public  revenues 
to  support  a  theatre,  there  is  no  branch  of  e  penditure 
which  the  inhabitants  would  less  willingly  see  curtailed. 
They  are  irritated,  therefore,  that  the  influence  of  the 
queen  of  the  boards  with  their  master  should  operate 
so  injuriously  on  the  histrionic   republic ;  they  had  no 


MANNERS.  55 

fault  to  lin(]  with  his  gallantry  so  long  as  it  did  not  vio- 
late the  muses.  Let  not  this  be  ascribed  to  any  want 
of  moral  sensibility.  We  have  no  very  favourable  idea 
of  German  morality,  and,  in  the  larger  capitals,  partic- 
ularly those  of  the  South,  there  certainly  is  no  reason 
why  we  should  ;  but  Weimar  is  a  spot  of  as  pure  moral- 
ity as  any  in  Europe.  At  Munich  or  Vienna,  corrumpe- 
re  et  corrunipi  saeculum  vacatur  ;  but  the  infection  has 
not  reached  these  Thurin^ians.  It  is  as  surprising  to 
find  in  Weimar  so  pure  a  court,  round  a  priiice  who  has 
show-)  himself  not  to  be  without  iiuman  frailties,  as  it  is 
to  find  in  Vienua  a  society  made  up  of  tlie  most  unprin- 
cipled Uissoluteness,  rouiid  an  emperor  who  is,  himself, 
one  of  the  purest  men  alive. 

Like  all  their  sisters  of  Saxony,  the  ladies  are  models 
of  industry;  whether  at  home  or  abroad,  knitting  and 
needle-work  know  no  interruption.  A  lady,  going  to  a 
route,  would  think  little  of  forgetting  her  fan,  but 
could  not  spend  half  an  hour  without  her  implements  of 
female  industry.  A  man  would  be  quite  pardonable 
for  doubting,  on  entering  such  a  drawing-room,  whether 
he  had  not  strayed  into  a  school  of  industry.  At  Dres- 
den this  is  carried  so  far,  that  even  the  theatre  is  not 
protected  against  stocking  wires.  I  have  seen  a  lady 
gravely  lay  down  her  work,  wipe  away  the  tears  which 
the  sorrows  of  Thekla  in  Wallenstein's  Death  had 
brought  into  her  eyes,  and  immediately  reassume  her 
knitting.  The  Weimarese  have  not  yet  found  it  ne- 
cessary to  put  softness  of  heart  so  absolutely  under  the 
protection  of  the  work-bag.  They  are  much  more  at- 
tached to  music  than  dancini:;,  and  sometimes  a  despe- 
rate struggle  is  made  to  get  up  a  masquerade  ;  but 
they  want  the  vivacity  without  which  a  thing  of  that 
sort  is  the  most  insipid  of  all  amusement^.  The  higher 
class  leave  the  masquerades  to  the  citizens,  who  de- 
murely pace  round  a  room,  in  back  dominos,  and  stare 
at  each  other  in  black  faces. 


56  WEIMAR. 

As  might  be  expected  from  the  literary  tone  which 
so  loiig  ruled,  and  still  '''ngcrs  round  the  court  and  so- 
ciety of  Weiiiiar,  even  the  ladies  have  not  altogether 
escaued  a  sprinkling  of  pedantry ;  some  have  been 
thickly  powdered  over  with  it,  and,  in  so  small  a  circle, 
shake  oft  their  learned  dust  on  all  whom  they  jostle. 
One  coterie  forms  a  regular  critical  club.  The  gil'ted 
members,  varying  in  age  from  sixteen  to  sixty,  hold 
their  weekly  meetings  over  tea-cups,  wrapped  up  in  as 
cautious  secrecy  as  if  celebrating  the  mysteries  of  the 
Bona  Dea.  A  daring  Clodius  once  intruded,  and  wit- 
nessed the  dissection  of  a  tragedy  ;  but  he  had  reason 
to  repent  the  folly  of  being  wise,  so  long  as  he  remain- 
ed within  the  reach  of  the  conclave.  But  altogether, 
the  ladies  of  Weimar  are,  in  every  thing  that  is  good, 
a  favourable  specimen  of  their  countrywomen. 

The  serious    pursuits   and    undeviating  propriety  of 
conduct    of  the    Grand    Duchess    herself,    have    had  a 
large  share   in  thus  forming  the   manners  of  her  court 
and   subjects.      Her   Royal    Higliness  is   a   princess  of 
the  house  of  Darmstadt  ;  she  is  new  venerable  by  her 
years,  but  still    more   by  the  excellence  of  her  heart, 
and    the   strength    of    her  character.     In    these    little 
principalities,    the    same    goodness   of   disposition    can 
work  with   more  proportional   effect  than  if  it  swayed 
the   sceptre  of  an  em|)ire  ;  it  comes    more   easily    and 
directly    into    contact    with    those    towards    wliom    it 
should  be  directed  ;  the  artificial  world  of  courtly  rank 
and   wealth    has   neither   sufficient   glare    nor   body  to 
shut  out    from  the    prince  the  more    chequered    world 
that  lies  below.      After  the  baltle  of  Jena,  which   was 
fought  within    ten  miles  of  the  walls,   Weimar  looked 
to  her  alone  for  advice    and  protection.     Her  husband 
and  younger  son    were  ab^^ent    with  the    fraorments  of 
the  defeated  army;  the  French  troops  were  let   loose 
on  the    territory  and   capital;  the  flying    peasanti'y  al- 
ready bore    testimony  to  the  outrages    which  are  inse- 
parable from  the  presence  of  brutal  and  insolent  con- 


THE  GRAND  DUCHESS.  Sf 

querors.  The  hope  that  she  might  be  useful  to  tlie 
people  in  this  hour  of  trial,  when  they  could  look  only 
to  her,  prevailed  over  every  a[)prehension  of  personal 
insult  and  danger;  she  calmly  awaited  in  Weimar  the 
approach  of  the  French,  collected  round  her  in  the 
palace  the  greater  part  of  the  women  and  children 
who  had  not  yet  (led,  and  shared  with  them  herself 
the  coarse  and  scanty  food  which  she  was  able  to  dis- 
tribute among  them.  The  Emperor,  on  his  arrival, 
took  up  his  abode  in  the  palace,  and  the  Grand 
Duchess  immediately  requested  an  interview  witli 
him.  His  first  words  to  her  were,  "  Madam,  I  make 
you  a  present  of  this  palace;"  and  forthwith  he  broke 
out  into  the  same  strain  of  invective  against  Prussia 
and  her  allies,  and  sneers  at  the  folly  of  endeavouring 
to  resist  hitnself,  which  he  soon  afterwards  launched 
against  the  unfortunate  Louisa  at  Tilsit.  He  said  more 
than  once  with  great  vehemence,  "  On  dit  que  je  veux 
etre  Empereur  de  Vouest ;  e^,"  stamping  with  his  foot,  "je 
le  serai,  Madame.''''  He  was  confounded  at  the  firm 
and  dignified  tone  in  which  the  Grand  Duchess  met 
him.  She  neither  palliated  her  husband's  political 
conduct,  nor  supplicated  for  mercy  in  his  political  mis- 
fortunes. Political  integrity,  as  a  faithful  ally  of  Prus- 
sia, had,  she  told  him,  dictated  the  one,  and,  if  he  en- 
tertained any  regard  for  political  principle  and  fidelity 
to  alliances  in  a  monarch,  he  could  not  take  advantage 
of  the  other.  The  interview  was  a  lonof  one  ;  the 
Imperial  officers  in  waiting  could  not  imagine  how  a 
man,  who  reckoned  time  thrown  away  even  on  the 
young  and  beautiful  of  the  sex,  could  spend  so  much 
with  a  princess  W'hose  qualifications  were  more  of  a 
moral  and  intellectual  nature.  But  from  that  moment, 
Napoleon  treated  the  family  of  Weimar  with  a  degree 
of  respect  and  consideration,  which  the  most  powerlul 
of  his  satellites  never  experienced.  He  even  alFected 
to  do  homage  to  the  literary  reputation  of  the  town, 
and  shoAvercd  honours  on  the  poets  of  Weimar,  while 

a 


5S  WEIMAR. 

he  was  suppressing  universities.  The  last  time  he 
was  in  Weimar  was  before  he  led  up  his  troops  to  the 
battle  of  Liitzen.  When  he  learned  that  part  of  the 
contingent  of  Weimar,  as  a  member  of  the  Confedera- 
tion of  the  Rhine,  had  joined  the  Allies,  he  only  said 
smiling,  "  C^est  la  'petite  Yorckiade.'^''  He  requested 
the  honour  of  a  glass  of  Malaga  from  the  hand  of  the 
Grand  Duchess  herself,  observing  that  he  was  getting 
old;  and,  accompanied  by  the  Grand  Duke,  and  his 
second  son,  Prince  Bernard,  rode  off  to  attack  the 
enemy  at  Liitzen. 

From  this  moment,  till  the  thunder-clouds  which 
collected  at  Leipzig  had  rolled  themselves  beyond  the 
Rhine,  this  tranquil  abode  of  the  muses  witnessed 
nothinpf  but  the  horrors  of  war  in  all  their  merciless 
perfection.  That  three  such  armies,  as  those  of 
France,  Russia,  and  Austria,  were  let  loose  on  the  ex- 
hausted land,  includes  in  itself  the  idea  of  every  pos- 
sible misery  and  crime;  but  it  was  lamentable,  that  as 
much  should  be  suffered  from  the  declared  liberators, 
as  from  the  real  oppressor  of  Germany.  The  Rus- 
sians fairly  deserved  the  name  which  the  wits  of  the 
north  bestowed  upon  them,  of  being  Germany's  Ret- 
tiincrsbestien,  or,  Brutes  of  Salvation  ;  but  the  Austrians 
far  outstripped  them  in  atrocity,  and  fired  the  villages, 
amid  shouts  of  "  Burn  the  hearts  out  of  the  Saxon 
dogs."  There  is  something  exquisitely  absurd  in  an 
Austrian  imagining,  that  any  people  of  Germany  can 
possibly  sink  so  low  as  to  be  inferior  to  his  own.  That 
dreadful  period  has,  in  some  measure,  altered  the 
character  of  these  artless,  kuidly  people ;  you  can 
scarcely  enter  a  cottage,  that  does  not  ring  with  dread- 
ful tales  out  of  these  days  of  horror.  Old  village 
stories  of  witches  on  tlie  Hartz,  and  legends  of  Num- 
ber Nip  from  the  mountains  of  Silesia,  have  given 
place  to  village  records  of  individual  misfortune,  pro- 
duced by  worse  spirits  than  ever  assembled  on  the 
Brocken,  or  obeyed  Riibezahl,  in  the  clefts  of  the 
Schneekoppe. 


LITERATURE.  5? 

It  was  precisely  by  its  sympathy,  its  active  humani- 
ty, and  seif-denial  araid  these  horrors,  lliat  the  reign- 
\ii^  family  fixed  itself  so  deeply  in  the  atl'ections  of  the 
peo})le.  Every  source  of  courtly  expense  was  limit- 
ed, or  cut  otF,  to  meet  the  miseries  of  the  ruined  [)ea- 
santry,  and  rebuild  the  villages  which  had  been  laid  in 
ashes.  In  the  short  space  of  a  montli,  the  murders  of 
the  soldiery,  and  epidemic  disease,  }>roduced  by  liv- 
ing in  filth  and  starvation  among  the  ruins  of  the  vil- 
lages, threw  hve  hundred  orphans  on  the  country. 
]\ine  were  found  out  of  one  family,  without  a  rag  to 
defend  them  against  the  chilling  damps  of  an  autumn 
night,  cowering  round  the  embers  of  their  burned  cot- 
tage, watching  by  the  corpses  of  their  father  and 
mother.  The  ducal  family,  assisted  by  a  share  of  the 
money  which  was  raised  in  this  country  for  the  suffer- 
ing Germans,  adopted  these  orphans.  They  have  all 
been  educated  in  Weimar,  instructed  in  a  profession, 
and  put  in  the  way  of  exercising  it.  In  the  summer 
of  1821,  they  finished  a  small  chapel,  dedicated  to 
the  Providence  that  had  led  their  childhood  safe 
through  so  much  misfortune,  of  which  not  only  the 
walls,  but  all  the  furniture  and  oinaments,  are  the 
work  of  their  own  hands,  each  in  the  profession  to 
which  he  was  educated. 

It  is  almost  a  consequence  of  the  literary  charac- 
ter of  Weimar,  that  nowhere  on  the  continent  is  En- 
glish more  studiously  cultivated.  Byron  and  Scott  are 
as  much  read,  as  well  understood,  and  as  fairly  judged 
of  bv  the  Germans  as  among  ourselves;  they  have  not 
merely  one,  but  several  translations  of  the  best  of  the 
Scottish  Novels.  The  Grand  Duke  himself  reads  a 
great  deal  of  English.  Besides  his  own  private  col- 
lection, the  well-stored  public  library,  which  is  thrown 
open  for  the  use  of  every  body,  contains  all  our  cele- 
brated writers.  What  a  chaiioe  in  the  course  of  half 
a  century  !  The  library  of  Frederick  still  stands  in 
Sans  Souci,  as  he  left  it  at  his  death,  and  does  not  con- 


68  WEIMAR. 

tain  a  volume  but  what  is  French.  In  Dr  Froriep^s 
room,  nt  the  Industrie'Comptoir^^  one  could  imagine 
himself  lounging  in  Albemarle  Street,  instead  of  being 
in  a  retired  corner  of  Saxonj  ;  the  newspapers,  the 
reviews  the  philosophical  periodicals,  are  scattered 
about  in  all  their  variety,  together  with  all  the  new 
books  that  are  worth  reading,  and  a  great  many  that 
are  not. 

Gothe,  too,  is  fond  of  English  reading,  and  whatever 
Gothe  is  fond  of  must  be  fashionable  in  Weimar.  He 
is  an  idolater  of  Byron,  though  he  holds  that  his  Lord- 
ship has  stolen  various  good  things  from  him.  Don 
Juan  seems  to  be  his  favourite,  but  the  paper  and  type 
really  appeared  to  have  no  small  share  in  the  admira- 
tion with  which  he  spoke  of  the  work.  Few  things 
astonish  the  Germans  more  than  our  topogra{)hical 
luxury;  the  port  of  London  would  not  give  them  a 
higher  idea  of  our  national  wealth  than  our  ordinary 
style  of  printing,  joined  to  the  fact  that,  notwithstand- 
ing its  costliness,  a  greater  quantity  of  books  is  de- 
voured by  our  population  than  by  any  other  in  Eu- 
rope. They  are  themselves  very  far  behind  in  print- 
ing, partly  because  the  cheapness  of  a  book  is  essen- 
tial to  its  sale,  partly  because  they  have  introduced 
few  improvements  in  an  art  which  they  invented.  A 
nesjotiation  wnth  a  Berlin  publisher,  for  printing  a 
translation  of  PI  ay  fair's  Chronology,  was  broken  off,  be- 
cause "  paper  could  not  be  found  large  enough  for  the 
tables."     Dr  Miillner  was   astonished  to   find  it  stated 

*  This  Industrie-Comptoir  is  an  establisbment  founded  by  the 
late  Mr  Bertuch,  under  the  protection  of  the  Grand  Duke,  for 
printing  and  ens^raving,  and  it  has  already  become  one  of  the  most 
important  in  Germany.  Nearly  three  hundred  persons  are  occu- 
pied in  printing-  books,  engraving  maps  and  drawings,  partly  in 
copper,  partly  on  stone,  and  constructing  globes.  The  printing 
department  is  peculiarly  active  in  the  dissemination  of  foreign, 
particularly  English,  literature,  by  reprints  and  translations;  for 
Mr  Bertuch  was  a  scholar  and  a  man  of  talent,  and  so  is  his  rela- 
tion and  successor,  Dr  Froriep. 


AMUSEMENTS.  61 

in  a  magazine,  that  the  few  copies  of  Mr.  Gillies's  ver- 
sion of  the  Schiild,  which  had  been  thrown  oil  for  the 
author's  friends,  were  elegantly  printed  :  '^  for,"  said  he, 
"  with  us,  on  such  an  occasion,  it  is  quite  the  reverse." 

Though  there  are  carriages  in  Weimar,  its  little 
fashionable  world  makes  no  show  in  the  ring;  but,  so 
soon  as  winter  has  furnished  a  sufficient  quantity  of 
snow,  thej  indemnify  themselves  by  bringing  forth 
their  sledges.  They  are  fond  of  this  amusement, 
but  are  not  sufficiently  I'ar  north  to  enjoy  it  in  any 
perfection,  or  for  any  length  of  time.  The  slec'ges  would 
be  handsome,  were  not  their  pretensions  to  beauty 
frequently  injured  by  the  gaudy  colouis  wiih  which 
they  are  bedaubed.  By  the  laws  of  sledge-driving, 
every  gentleman  is  entitled,  at  the  termination  of  the 
excursion,  to  salute  his  partner,  as  a  reward  for  ha- 
ving been  an  expert  Jehu  ;  and,  if  once  in  the  line, 
it  is  not  easy  to  drive  badly.  The  wholly  unprac- 
tised, or  very  apprehensive,  plant  a  more  skilful  ser- 
vant on  the  projecting  spars  behind  ;  he  manages  the 
horses,  while  his  principal,  freed  of  the  trouble,  tena- 
ciously retains  its  recompence.  The  long  line  of  glit- 
tering carriages,  the  gay  trappings  of  the  horses,  the 
sound  of  the  bells  with  which  they  are  covered,  and, 
except  this  not  unpleasant  tinkling,  the  noiseless  ra- 
pidity with  which  the  train  glides  through  a  clear 
frosty  morning,  like  a  fairy  cavalcade  skimming  along 
the  earth,  form  a  cheering  and  picturesque  scene. 

Few  things  would  raise  the  wrath  of  an  English 
sportsman  more  than  a  German  hare-hunt,  except,  per- 
haps, a  Hungarian  stag-hunt,  for  the  game  is  cut  off 
from  every  chance  of  escape,  before  the  attack  is 
made.  The  Grand  Duke  of  Weimar  is  an  enthusias- 
tic sportsman  himself,  and,  when  he  takes  his  gun, 
every  respectable  person  may  do  the  same,  and  join 
his  train.  Peasants  are  used  instead  of  grey-hounds ; 
they  surround  a  large  tract  of  country,  and  drive  the 
hares  before   them,  into  the    hands   of  fifty   or  sixty 


62  WEIMAR. 

sportsmen  with  double-barrelled  guns.  It  is  a  massa- 
cre, not  a  hunt.  As  the  circle  grows  more  coijiined, 
and  only  a  few  of  the  devoted  annuals  survive,  the 
amusement  becomes  nearly  as  dangerous  to  the  sports- 
men as  to  the  game  ;  they  shoot  across  each  other  in 
all  directions  ;  and  the  Jagdmeister  and  his  assistants 
find  sufficient  occupation  both  for  their  voices  and  their 
arms,  here  striking  down,  thei'e  striking  up  a  barrel, 
to  prevent  the  sportsmen,  in  the  confusion,  from  pour- 
ing the  shot  into  each  other's  bodies.  A  large  waggon, 
loaded  with  every  thing  essential  to  good  cheer,  at- 
tends. After  the  first  circle  has  been  exhausted,  the 
sportsmen  make  merry,  while  the  peasants  are  form- 
ing a  new^  one,  in  a  different  direction,  and  preparing  a 
similar  murderous  exhibition.  The  peasants  say,  that, 
without  this  summary  mode  of  execution,  they  would 
be  overrun  with  hares;  and  they  very  naturally  pre- 
fer having  it  in  their  power  to  purchase  dead  hares  for 
a  price  which  is  next  to  nothing,  to  being  eaten  up  by 
thousands  of  them  alive. 

The  family  of  Weimar,  besides  sustaining  so  hon- 
ourable a  part  in  protecting  the  literature  of  Ger- 
many, likewise  took  the  lead  in  the  introduction  of 
free  governments.  The  conclusion  of  the  war  was 
followed,  all  over  Germany,  by  the  expectation  of 
ameliorated  political  institutions.  The  Congress  of 
Vienna  found  it  necessary,  or  prudent,  to  assume  the 
appearance  of  liberality  ;  but,  unfortunately,  the  arti- 
cle regarding  this  matter,  in  the  Act  of  Congress,  vi^as 
couched  in  terms  so  general,  as  to  leave  it  to  tlie  choice 
of  every  prince,  (and  so  it  has  been  interpreted  in 
practice,)  whether  he  would  submit  his  prerogative  to 
the  restraints  of  a  legislative  body.  This  disastrous 
ambiguity,  whether  the  effect  of  accident  or  artifice, 
was  the  origin  of  the  popular  irritation  which  imme- 
diately ensued  in  different  parts  of  Germany  ;  for,  amid 
the  variety  of  meanings  of  which  the  words  were 
susceptible,  the  sovereigns  naturally  maintained,  that 


THE  GOVERNMENT.  63. 

only  such  expositions  were  correct,  as  implied  the  con- 
tinuance of  iheir  ancient  undeiined  authority.  Some, 
like  the  King  ol*  Prussia,  allowed,  that  the  article 
bound  tliem  to  introduce  "  Constitutions  of  Estates," 
but  denied  that  it  bound  them  to  do  so  within  any 
limited  period;  and  held,  therefore,  that  it  lay  with 
themselves  to  decide,  whether  they  should  cease  to 
be  absolute  princes  five,  or  Cwe  hundred  years  hence. 
Others,  who  were  willifig  to  submit  to  a  "  Constitu- 
tion of  Estates,"  explained  these  words  of  the  Con- 
gress, as  meaning  merely  the  old  oligarchical  estates, 
not  a  legislative  body  to  controu!,  biJt  an  impotent 
body  to  advise;  not  so  much  a  parliament,  as  a  privy 
council.  A  third  party  put  this  gloss  on  the  article, 
that  it  only  bound  the  sovereigns  to  each  other,  but 
in  no  degree  to  their  subjects.  Dabelow  of  Gottingen, 
a  man  not  unknown  in  the  literary  world,  wrote  a 
book  in  defence  of  this  last  proposition.  The  Stu- 
dents of  Gottingen  reviewed  his  work,  by  affixing  a 
copy  to  the  whipping-post,  marching  to  the  author's 
house,  and  hailing  him  with  a  thrice  repeated  pereat. 
In  several  of  the  states,  particularly  in  the  south, 
more  honest  and  liberal  sentiments  have  gradually 
prevailed  ;  but  it  was  Weimar  that  sot  th.e  example. 
The  Grand  Duke,  disdaining  to  seek  pretexts  in  the 
Act  of  Cono^ress,  and  Jealous  that  any  other  state 
should  take  the  lead  in  this  honourable  course,  imme- 
diately framed  for  his  people  a  representative  govern- 
ment. He  was  assuredly  the  very  last  prince  who 
could  have  been  exposed  to  the  necessity  of  makl/io- 
concessions;  his  two  hundred  thousand  subjects  would 
as  soon  have  thought  of  composing  a  gospel  for  them- 
selves, as  of  demanding  any  share  in  the  administration 
of  public  alFairs.  When  the  first  elections  took  place 
under  the  new  constitution,  considerable  difficulty  was 
occasionally  experienced  in  bringing  up  the  electors, 
particularly  the  peasantry,  to  vote.  In  defiance  of  the 
disquisitions  of  the   liberal    professors   of  Jena,    they 


64  WEIMAR. 

could  not  see  the  use  of  all  this  machinerv.  "  Do  we 
not  pay  the  Grand  Dtike  for  governino;  us,"  thej  said, 
"  and  attending  to  the  public  business  ?  Why  give  us 
all  this  trouble  besides?"  Nay,  after  the  experiment 
of  a  representative  body  had  been  tried  during  seven 
years,  many  still  assert,  that  matters  went  on  quite  as 
well,  and  more  chea[)ly  without  them. 

This  miniature  parliament  forms  only  one  house,  for 
it  consists  of  only  thirty-one  members.  Ten  are  chosen 
by  the  proprietors  of  estates-noble,  ten  by  the  citizens 
of  the  towns,  ten  by  the  peasantry,  and  one  by  the 
University  of  Jena.  The  last  is  elected  by  the  Sena- 
tus  Academicus,  and,  besides  being  a  professor,  must 
have  taken  a  regular  degree  in  the  juridical  faculty. 
At  the  general  election,  which  occurs  every  seventh 
year,  not  only  the  representatives  themselves  (Ahgeord- 
neten)  are  chosen,  but  likewise  a  substitute  (Stellver' 
treter)  for  every  member,  in  order  that  the  represen- 
tation may  be  always  full.  If  the  seat  of  a  represen- 
tative become  vacant  by  his  death,  resignation,  or  any 
supervenient  incapacity,  the  substitute  takes  his  place 
till  the  next  general  election.  The  ten  members  for 
the  nobility  are  chosen  directly  by  all  the  possessors  of 
estates-noble,  (^Riltergilter.^  A  patent  of  nobility  gives 
the  same  rio^ht.  The  vote  does  not  bear  reference  to 
any  fixed  vahje  of  property  ;  it  rests  on  the  nature  or 
the  estate;  the  possessor  has  a  vote  for  every  sepa- 
rate independent  estate  of  this  kind  which  he  possesses, 
however  trifling,  or  however  extensive  it  may  be. 
The  whole  doctrine  of  splitting  superiorities  and  creat- 
ing votes,  in  which  the  freeholders  and  lawyers  of  one 
part  of  our  island  have  become  so  expert,  would  be 
thrown  away  on  the  jurisconsults  of  Saxony.  The  pri- 
vilege of  granting  patents  of  nobility  would  give  the 
prince  the  power  of  creating  electors  at  pleasure  ;  but 
the  Grand  Duke  has  stripped  himself  of  the  preroga- 
tive of  raising  estates  to  this  higher  rank,  in  so  far  as 
the  elective  franchise   is   concerned,   by  a  provision  in 


THE  GOVERNMENT.  6$ 

the  constitution,  that,  in  future,  he  shall  erect  Riiter* 
giiter^  to  the  effect  of  giving  a  vote,  onlj  with  the  con- 
sent of  the  chamber.  Even  ladies  in  possession  of 
sucii  estates  have  a  vote  ;  but,  if  ijriujarricd,  they  must 
vote  by  proxy.  A  couiify  of  female  I'reeliolders  would 
afford  the  most  amusino-  canvass  imaginable. 

In  the  representation   of   the  towns   and  peasantry^ 
the  election  is   indirect.      The   towns    are   distributed 
into  ten   districts,  each  of  which  sends    one   member. 
Weimar  and  Eisenach  form  districts  of  themselves,  the 
former  as  being  the   capital,   arid  containing  a  popula- 
tion of  seven  thousand  souls  ;  the  latter,  as  having  some 
pretensions  to  be  considered  a  manufacturing  town,  and 
containing  a  population  somewhat  greater  than  that  of 
Weimar.     In  these,  as  well  as  in  all    the    towns,  great 
or  small,  which  form  the    other  districts  respectively, 
every  resident  citizen  has  a  vote,  without  distinction  of 
religion;  even  Jews  possess  the  francliise,  though  they 
cannot  be  elected.     The    whole    body   of  voters   in  a 
town  choose  a  certain  number  of  delegates,  in  the  pro- 
portion of  one  for  every  fifty  houses  the  town  contains, 
and  these  deputies  elect    the  member  for  the  district. 
At  least  two-thirds  of  all  the  citizens  having  a  right  to 
vote  must  be  present  at  the  election  of   the  delegates, 
and  two-thirds  of  the  delegates  at  the  final  election   of 
the    member.      If  no  election    takes   place,    in  conse- 
quence of  more  than  a  third  part  of  the  electors  being 
absent,  all  the  expences  of  afterwards   proceeding  to  a 
new  election  are  borne  by   the  absentees.     The  mem- 
ber for  a  district  of  towns  must  have  a  certain  and  Inde- 
pendent Inco  ne  of   about  L.  75  Sterling  (50)  rix  dol- 
lars) if  he  be  elected    for   Weimar   or   Eisenach,  and 
L.  45  (300  rix  dollars)  if    he    be  chosen    to  represent 
the  towns  of  any  other  district.     In  estimating  this  in- 
come, no  salary  is  taken  Into  account,  whether   It  be 
derived  from  the  state  or  from  a  private   person,  whe- 
ther paid  for  actual  service,  or  enjoved  as  a  pension. 

9 


66  WEIMAR. 

The  election  of  the  ten  representatives  of  the  pea- 
santry proceeds  exactly  in  the  same  way.  In  regard 
to  them,  likewise,  the  duchy  is  divided  into  ten  dis- 
tricts :  in  eacii  district  all  the  peasants  who  are  major, 
and  have  a  house  within  its  bounds,  choose  their  dele- 
gates in  the  same  proportion  to  the  number  of  houses 
as  in  the  towns,  and  these  delegates  choose  the  mem- 
ber. The  member  must  be  one  of  themselves;  they 
are  not  allowed  to  take  him  from  the  higher  class  of 
landed  proprietors,  which  they  certainly  would  easily 
have  been  brought  to  do,  had  it  not  been  thus  express- 
ly prohibited.  With  the  same  view  of  preventing  no- 
ble families  from  gaining  undue  influence  in  the  legisla- 
ture, it  is  provided  that  neither  brothers,  nor  father 
and  son,  shall  be  capable  of  sitting  in  the  chamber  at 
the  same  time. 

The  three  sets  of  members  thus  elected,  with  the 
representative    of  Jena,  furm    the  Landtag  or  parlia- 
ment of  the  duchy.     They  elect  their  own  president, 
and   the    election  is   confirmed    by  the    Grand  Duke. 
He  must  be  chosen  from  the  nobility,  and  no  person  is 
eligible   who  is  in  the  service  of  government,  or  enjoys 
a   salary  from    it.     He   holds  his  office  during  twelve 
years,  that  is,  two  parliaments,  but  the  house  which 
appoints    him  may  elect  him  for  any  longer  period,  or 
even  for  life.     This  is  scarcely  reconcileable   with   the 
strict    elective    principle ;  for,    as    the    president  thus 
passes    from   the  dissolved  chamber  into  the  new  one, 
the   district   for    which    he    originally  sat  chooses  one 
member  less  at  the  new  election, and  the  new  chamber 
itself  finds  itself  under  a  president  elected  by  its  prede- 
cessors.    Two  assistants  are  given  him   by   the  house, 
taken  indiscriminately  from  the  three  estates,  but  they 
hold    their  office  only  for  three  years,  that  is,  for  one 
session.     The  president,  and  these  two  assistants, (who 
have  all  salaries,)  form  what  is  called  the  Vorstand^  or 
Presidency    of    the    chamber ;     they    are    the    organ 
through  which  it  communicates  with  the  Grand  Duke: 


THE  GOVERNMENT.  i^ 

during  the  session,  thej  have  the  general  superinten- 
dence of  the  business  ;  during  adjournments  and  pro- 
rogations, they  remain  in  lull  activity  to  watch  over 
the  course  of  pubhc  ailairs,  to  prepare  the  matters  of 
discussion  that  are  likely  to  be  brought  before  the 
chamber  at  its  next  meeting,  to  issue  writs  for  new 
elections  where  vacancies  have  taken  place,  and  to 
apply  to  the  Grand  Duke,  if  they  shall  think  it  neces- 
sary, to  call  an  extraordinary  meeting.  The  chamber 
elects,  moreover,  its  own  clerk,  pays  him  a  salary,  and 
may  dismiss  him  at  pleasure. 

Regularly  the  chamber  meets  only  once  in  three 
years,  but  the  Grand  Duke,  either  of  his  own  accord, 
or  at  the  request  of  the  Vorstand^  may,  at  any  time, 
call  an  extraordinary  meeting.  He  has  the  preroga- 
tive likewise  of  dissolving  it  at  any  time  ;  but,  in  that 
case,  a  new  chamber  must  be  elected  within  three 
months,  otherwise  the  dissohed  one  revives  ipso  jure. 
The  former  members  are  always  re-eligible.  The 
members  have  full  privilege  of  parliament;  their  per- 
sons are  inviolable  from  the  commencement,  till  eight 
days  after  the  close  of  the  session;  they  are  secured 
in  liberty  of  speech,  and  legal  proceedings  cannot  be 
instituted  against  them  without  the  consent  of  the 
chamber.  During  the  session,  they  have  an  allowance 
of  about  ten  shillings  a  day,  besides  a  certain  sum  per 
mile  to  cover  their  travelling  expences  in  coming  to 
Weimar,  and  returning  home.  The  majority  of  voices 
determines  every  questiorj.  The  speaker  has  no  cast- 
ing vote;  in  case  of  equality,  there  must  be  a  second 
debate  and  division  ;  and,  if  the  chamber  be  still  equal- 
ly divided,  the  right  of  deciding  is  in  the  Grand  Duke. 
In  every  case,  his  Royal  Highness  has  an  absolute 
veto. 

The  powers  of  the  chamber  extend  to  all  the 
branches  of  loirislation,  and  its  consent  is  indispensable 
to  the  validity  of  all  legislative  measures.  As  it  meets 
only  once  in   three  years,  the  budget  is  voted  for  the 


m  WEIMAR. 

whole  of  that  period  ;  but,  a  standing  committee,  con- 
sisting, besides  the  Presidency,  of  lliree  members  from 
the  nobles,  and  three  from  the  representatives  of  the 
towns  or  peasantry,  continues  during  the  long  adjourn- 
ment, to  examine  annunllj  the  pul)hc  accounts.  The 
independence  of  the  judges,  and  the  hbertj  of  the 
press,  which  had  been  introduced  into  the  grand  du- 
chv  before  this  constitution  was  framed,  were  confirm- 
ed  by  it. 

The  chamber  met  for  the  second  time  in  December 
1820,  and  sal  no  less  than  four  months.  The  cereriio- 
riies  at  opening  it  consist  in  a  sptech  fiom  the  Graiid 
Dui.e,  and  a  banquet  in  the  palace.  The  members 
then  proceed  to  business,  and,  out  of  San  Marino, 
there  is  nothing  like  the  sins  pie,  honest,  well  meaning 
legislators  who  are  here  brought  together.  The  mem- 
bers elected  by  the  noble  proprietors,  the  professor 
from  Jena,  and,  perhaps,  a  few  of  those  who  repiesent 
the  towns,  are  men  of  education  and  experiersce  ;  but 
most  of  the  latter,  and  the  representatives  of  the  uea- 
santry,  are  still  more  moderate  in  education  than  they 
are  in  fortune.  Yet,  in  spite  of  their  bl uti'  countenan- 
ces, homely  manners,  and  shaggy  coats,  they  biing 
with  them  two  excellent  qualities,  a  \c\y  modest  dis- 
trust of  their  own  judgment,  and  a  most  laudable  de- 
sire to  be  saving  both  oi  their  own  and  of  tlie  public 
money.  A  county  member,  as  the  representatives  of 
the  peasantiy  may  in  some  measure  be  reckoned,  who 
happened  to  reside  not  far  from  Weimar,  walked  in 
evevy  morning  to  the  house  with  a  sutF.cient  quantity 
of  rural  viands  in  his  pockets  to  satisfy  the  denjands  of 
the  day,  and  walked  home  again  in  the  afternoon,  with 
his  half  guinea  untouched.  These  men,  as  is  perfect- 
ly natural,  do  not  find  themselves  at  houje  in  the  oifice 
of  legislators;  i\\e  transmigration  from  resp-eclable 
shopkeepers  and  small  farmers  into  members  of  parlia- 
ment was  too  rapid  to  allow  them  to  move  easily  in 
their  new  dress ;  for  there  had  been  nothing  in  their 


THE  GOVERNMENT.  69 

education,  or  previous  habits  of  life,  to  prepare  them 
to  act  ill  so  vei  y  diiTerr m  r.  capacitj.  They  have  no 
reason  to  be  ashamed  of  this;  an  overneening  trust  in 
their  own  quahfications  would  be  no  desirable  symp- 
tom ;  every  man  of  sense  must  feel  the  same  uricasi- 
ness,  at  being  called  from  bargaining  about  rye  and 
black  cattle,  to  deliberate  on  measures  of  finance,  and 
decide  questions  of  public  law. 

To  this  want  of  experience,  and  the  want  of  self- 
confidence,  which  results  from  it,  are  to  be  ascribed  se- 
veral errors  into  which  they  have  fallen.  For  instance, 
they  committed  a  great  blunder  in  shutting  their  doors 
against  the  public;  and  it  is  worthy  of  notice,  as  a 
matter  of  political  opinion,  that,  on  this  point,  rhey 
have  stubbornly  refused  to  gratify  the  Grand  Duke. 
In  the  speech  with  which  he  closed  the  preceding 
session,  he  had  stated  his  wish  that,  at  their  next  meet- 
ing, they  should  consider  the  propriety  of  tlirowing 
open  their  deliberations  to  the  people,  and  that  he  de- 
sired this  publicity  himself.  They  did  deliberate;  but 
the  small  manufacturers  and  small  farmers,  with  all 
their  plain  sense  and  honest  interiticns,  were  so  terrifi- 
ed at  the  idea  of  being  laughed  at  fur  oratorical  defi- 
ciencies, that  they  determined,  by  a  great  majority,  to 
keep  their  doors  shut,  but  resolved  to  print,  now  and 
then,  an  abstract  of  their  journals  for  the  information 
of  the  public,  always  under  the  proviso  that  no  nanses 
should  be  mentioned.  Luden,  Professor  of  History  at 
Jena,  immediately  let  loose  upon  them  his  nervous  and 
logical,  but  cutting  pen,  and  rendered  them  infinitely 
more  ridiculous  than  they  could  possibly  have  made 
themselves  by  dull  speeches. 

They  commit led  a  still  more  serious  mistake  in  the 
case  of  Dv,  Ok  en,  the  Professor  of  Natural  H  .'story. 
This  gen!lr;m"»n  had  iosi  his  chair  in  the  University  of 
Jenn,  for  scolding  Prince  Metternich,  and  laughing  at 
the  King  of  Prussia.  He  had  been  dismissed  without 
any  judicial  inquiry  or  sentence,  because  he  would  not 


4 


I» 


70  WEIMAR. 

give  up  the  publication  of  a  journal  which  other  courts 
considered  revolutionary.  He  and  hjs  friends,  there- 
fore, loudly  maintained  that  his  dismissal  was  ille'jjal, 
and  the  matter  came  regularly  before  the  Chamber  in 
the  shape  of  a  question,  whether  the  Grand  Duke 
could  legally  dismiss  a  public  servant,  without  good 
cause  ascertained  according  to  law  ?  This  way  of  put- 
ting the  question  showed,  of  itself,  that  they  had  no 
clear  idea  of  the  dispute,  for  it  placed  ministers  of  state 
and  public  teachers,  or  even  judges,  on  the  same 
footing.  The  answer  which  they  gave  to  it  was  still 
less  satisfactory  ;  for  they  decided,  though  by  a  very 
small  majority,  tliat  the  Grand  Duke  does  possess  this 
prerogative  ;  but,  at  the  same  time,  they  voted  an  ad- 
dress, in  which  they  prayed  him  to  give  them  an  as- 
surance, that,  till  they  should  find  time  to  concoct  a 
remedial  enactment,  he  Avould  not  dismiss  any  other 
public  servant  in  the  same  way.*  The  answer  of  his 
Royal  Highness  was  rather  touchy,  and  sounded  very 
like  a  reproach  that  they  should  think  him  capable  of 
doino^  any  thirjg  illegal. 

There  is  a  Censorship,  but  its  existence  is  no  stain 
on  the  government  of  Weimai*,  for  it  is  a  child  of  fo- 
reign birth  which  it  has  been  compelled  to  adopt. 
The  constitution  established  the  freedom  of  the  press, 
restricted   only    by   the    necessary   responsibility  in   a 

*  This  vote  naturally  excited  much  anger,  and  spread  some  dis- 
may, among  the  gentlemen  of  the  Universilv  ;  it  has  had  no  small  in- 
fluence in  qualifying  their  admiration  of  the  popular  hody.  The 
la«v vers  among  them  maintain,  to  a  man,  that  it  is  in  the  very 
teeth  of  the  law.  One  of  the  most  distinguished  of  them  said  to 
me,  with  some  bitterness,  '•'■  Oken  deserved  it  for  his  silly  confi- 
dence in  the  representatives  of  the  peo])le,  whom  he  delighted  to 
honour  and  laud.  He  would  hear  of  nothng  but  a  discussion  be- 
fore the  Clumber,  and  now  he  can  judge  belter  what  sort  of  thing 
the  Chamlei  is.  fjad  he  m  de  his  application  to  ttie  Supreme 
Court  of  Ju-'^ir.'.  ipslead  cf  [^titio.nng  his  repr-^^erf  stive?  «"  f  the 
peophR,  he  would  have  kept  his  chair,  and  the  Chamber  would 
have  been  saved  from  making  itseif  ridiculous." 


THE  GOVERNMENT.  n 

court  of  law,  and  the  constitution  itself  was  guaranteed 
by  the  D<el.  Greater  powers,  however,  not  only  held 
it  imprudent  to  concede  the  same  right  to  their  own 
subjects,  but  considered  it  d.ingcrous  that  it  should  be 
exercised  by  any  peo[)le  speaking  the  same  language. 
The  resolutions  of  the  Ci>ngress  of  Carlsbad  were 
easily  converted  into  ordinances  of  the  Diet,  and  Wei- 
mar was  forced,  by  the  will  of  this  supreme  authority, 
to  receive  a  Censorship.  Nay,  she  has  occasionally 
been  compelled  to  yield  to  external  influence,  which 
did  not  even  use  the  formality  of  acting  through  the 
medium  oi'  the  Diet.  Dr  Reuder  was  tlie  editor  of  a 
Weimar  newspaper  colled  the  "  Opposition  Paper," 
(^Das  Oppositions-Blatt^)  a  journal  of  decidedly  liberal 
principles,  and  extensive  circulation.  W^hen  it  was 
understood  that  the  three  powers  intended  to  crush 
the  Neapolitan  revolution  by  force,  there  appeared  in 
this  paper  one  or  two  articles  directed  against  the 
justice  of  armed  interference.  They  passed  over  un- 
noticed ;  but,  in  a  couple  of  months,  the  Congress  of 
Troppau  assembled,  and  forthwith  appeared  an  edict 
of  the  Grand  Duke  suppressing  the  paper.  No  one 
laid  the  blame  on  the  government.  Every  body  in 
Weimar  said,  "An  order  has  come  down  from  Trop- 
pau." The  politics  of  Russia  must  always  find  an 
open  door  in  the  cabinet  of  Weimar,  for  the  consort 
of  the  heir  apparent  is  a  sister  of  the  Russian  Auto- 
crat, and  enjoys  the  reputation  of  being  a  princess  of 
more  than  ordinary  talent.  Iler  husband  possesses  the 
virtues,  rather  than  the  nhibties  of  his  par#^nt^. 

In  fact,  Irom  the  moment  the  liberty  of  the  press 
was  established,  Weimar  was  regarded  with  an  evil 
eye  by  the  potentates  who  preponderate  in  the  Diet. 
In  less  than  three  years  there  were  six  journals  pub- 
lished in  Weimar  and  Jena,  devoted  wholly,  or  in  part, 
to  political  discussion,  and  three  of  them  edited  by  pro- 
fessors of  distinguished  name  in  German  learning. 
Their  politics  were   all  in  the  satoe   strain ;   earnest 


72  WEIMAR- 

pleadings  for   representative   constitutions,  and   very 
provoking,   though  very  sound  disquisitions,  on  the  in- 
efficacy  of  tht;  new  form  of  conf<ideralive  governafent 
to  which  Germany   has   been  feubjc'Cted.     At  VV^eimar 
no  fault    was  found   with   all   this;    more   than  one  of 
these  journals  were   printed  in  the  Indnstm-Comploir^ 
an  establishment   under  the   peculiar  protection  of  the 
Grand  Duke.     Bat  a  different  party,  and   particularly 
the  government  press  of  some   other   courts,  took  the 
alarm,  and  raised  an  outcry  against  Weimar,  as  if  all 
the  radicals  of  Europe  had  crowded  into  this  little  ter- 
ritory,   to   hatch    rebellion   for   the    whole    continent. 
Every  occurrence  was  made  use  of  to  throw  odium  on 
the   liberal    forms   of  her  government,  or  torment  its 
administrators     with    remonstrances    and     complaints. 
The  Grand  Duke  really  had  some  reason  to  say,  that 
Jena  had  cost  him  more  uneasiness  than  Napoleon  had 
ever   done.     By    displacing   some,   suspending   others, 
and  frightening  all ;  by  establishing  a  Censorship,  and 
occasionally    administering    a    suppression,    the    press 
of  Weimar   has    been   reduced    to   silence   or  indiffe- 
rence. 

These  free  institutions  were  in  no  sense  the  creation 
of  the  public  mind,  or  the  r)ublic  wishes,  for  the  peo- 
ple had  never  thought  about  the  matter,  and  felt  im- 
moveably  that  they  could  not  be  better  governed  than 
they  had  hitherto  been.  They  were  as  completely  a 
voluntary  gift  as  could  well  be  bestowed  ;  they  were 
the  work  of  the  sovereign  himself,  and  a  few  men  of 
honesty  and  talent,  setting  themselves  down  to  frame 
as  effective,  and  yet,  as  the  nature  of  the  caser  equired, 
as  simple  an  or^^an  as  possible,  by  which  the  public  opi- 
nion, if  so  inclined,  might  controul  tlie  government. 
What  thev  have  done  is  honourable  to  their  liberality 
and  prudence.  Sottin^^  aside  the  suoreme  controul  of 
the  Diet,  to  which  neither  the  wishes  nor  the  interests 
of  prince  and  people  conjoined  can  oppose  any  resist- 
ance, if  the  people  of  the  grand  duchy  be  misgoverned. 


THE  GOVERNMENT.  73 

they  can  only  have  themselves  to  blame  ;  for  the  con* 
stituhon  of  their  Icfijislative  body  is  sufficiently  popular^ 
and  its  powers,  if  duly  exercised,  sufficiently  effective. 
Hitherto  they  have  taken  little  interest  in  what  it  does. 
Excrtpt  among  men  of  liberal  education,  repining  profes- 
sors and  silenced  editors  find  neither  attention  nor  sym- 
pathy. In  Weimar  itself,  duiing  the  session  of  the 
Chamber,  you  seldom  hear  public  matters  adverted  to; 
they  are  still  too  foreign  to  all  their  habits  to  occupy  the 
citizens.  You  may  possibly  stumble  occasionally  on  a 
couple  of  ducal  statesmen  discussing  some  point  in  a  cor- 
ner at  a  party,  or  during  a  walk  in  the  Park ;  or,  at  the 
table  d'hote,  (for,  if  practicable,  the  house  pays  regu- 
lar deference  to  the  dinner-hour,)  a  member  may  let 
out  some  dark  hints  of  what  passed  within  do(Ts ; 
but  in  society  they  are  never  heard  of;  political  dis- 
cussions and  political  parties  are  there  unknown.  The 
coteries  of  Weimar  still  keep  by  the  song  and  the  jest, 
poetry  and  painting,  the  newest  play  or  romance,  or 
the  adventures  of  the  last  sledge-party  to  Belvidere  or 
Berka  ;  and  nobo  iy,  save  the  professors  of  Jena,  seems 
to  care  one  farthing  how  the  one  and  thirty  may  be 
earning  their  ten  shillings  a-day.  This  lies  partly  in 
the  national  character.  They  are  young  in  political 
life,  amJ,  like  all  their  countrymen,  ^ei  on  slowly, 
though  surely.  This  is  the  teinper  which  wears  best  ; 
for,  in  political  education,  more  than  in  any  other,  pre- 
cocity is  the  bane  of  depth  and  soundness.  Die  Zeit 
briagt  Rosen,  says  their  own  proverb;*  it  may  likewise 
briiig  an  interest  in  public  aifairs,  and  a  knowledge  of 
pubhc  duties. 

Since  the  termination  of  the  war  left  the  government 
its  own  master,  it  has  very  wisely  avoided  that  affecta- 
tion of  military  parade,  by  which  the  smaller  princes 
so  often  rendered  themselves  ridiculous,  and  ruined 
their   finances.     Except  the  few  hussars,  who  act  as 

*  Time  brings  roses, 
10 


74  WEIMAR. 

sentinels  at  the  palace,  and  occasionally  escort  its  inha- 
bitants on  a  journey,  you  may  traverse  the  grand  du- 
chy without  meetiijo-  a  uniform.  Now,  however,  that 
the  Diet  has  ultimately  arranged  the  military  contin- 
gents of  the  confederates,  Weimar  will  have  to  sup- 
port an  army  of  two  thousand  men.  It  will  be  better 
able  to  bear  the  burden,  than  the  still  smaller  states 
"wliich  are  clustered  together  in  the  neighbourhood. 
The  Grand  Duke  is  within  a  day's  journey  of  the  ter- 
ritories of  no  fewer  than  twelve  sovereign  princes. 
Prussia  is  the  leviathan  that  is  nearest  him.  Bavaria, 
Royal  Saxony,  and  Cassel,  are  within  his  reach,  and 
are  also  politically  important.  Then  comes  Weimar 
itself,  like  a  first-born,  among  the  allied  Sdxon  houses 
of  Got  ha,  Cobourg,  Meinungen,  and  Hilburghausen.  In 
the  vanishing  point  of  the  perspective  appear  the 
"  Wee  wee  German  Laii-dies,"  the  double  branches  of 
the  lines  oi*  Reuss  and  Schwarzenburg. 

There  is  a  party  in  Germany,  which  still  asks,  how 
have  these  petty  princes  been  allowed  to  retain  their 
independence,  when  so  uiany  others,  whose  separate 
existence  was  in  no  respect  more  injurious  to  the  unity 
and  respectability  of  the  common  country,  have  been 
reduced  to  the  rank  of  subjects?  What  has  saved 
Reuss  or  Sondershausen,  when  Tour  and  Taxis  has 
been  mediatized  ?  Their  voices  in  the  Diet  can  never 
be  their  own;  for,  thouj^h  they  possess  every  ratio  of 
monarchs,  except  the  ultima,  what  they  want  is  exact- 
ly the  essential  part  of  political  oratory.  They  neces- 
sarily become  instiuments  in  the  hands  oi'  the  more 
powerful  ;  and,  so  long  as  they  continue  to  exist,  me- 
morials of  an  empire  which  is  gone,  rather  than  living 
efficient  members  of  the  Geiaian  people,  the  country 
can  never  be  redeemed  from  foreign  tutelage,  or  ac- 
quire that  native  union  which  alone  can  give  it  the  dig- 
nity of  an  independent  state.  The  theory  of  this  par- 
ty accordingly  is,  that  all  foreign  powers  shall  be  strip- 
ped of  their  Geroian  domiuiou».     Even  Prussia  and 


THE  GOVERNMENT.  75 

Austria  are  to  be  considered  extraneous  monarchies  ; 
for,  though  they  may  be  useful  as  aihes,  they  will  only 
be  dangerous  as  curators,  and  curators  they  will  be,  if 
they  aie  included  at  all.  Then,  all  the  states  below 
second  nites  are  to  be  blotter]  out,  and  their  territories 
so  apportioned  amonjr  the  pure  Gernjan  powers  of  some 
importance,  such  as  Bavaria,  \\  irtemberg.  Saxony,  and 
Hanover,  that  there  shall  be  two  powerful  kingdoms  in 
the  north,  and  two  in  the  south.  Germany,  they  say, 
having  thus  four  efiicicnt,  instead  of  I'orty  ineflicient 
monarchs,  will  command  respect  fi  om  all  the  world. 
England,  alas!  has  no  chance  for  either  of  tlie  two 
northern  crowns.  The  very  first  step  to  be  taken  is 
to  strip  us  of  Hanover,  and  this  party  rails  furiously  at 
the  Congress,  lor  having  allowed  our  royal  family  to  re- 
tain it.  Even  the  free  towns  are  all  to  fall,  for  they  are 
considered  as  merely  English  factories,  which  ruin  na- 
tive industry  ;  and  the  twin  monarchs  of  the  north  are 
to  be  specially  charged  with  the  duty  of  liberating 
God's  ocean  from  our  maritime  yoke.  Such  was  the 
plan  detailed  in  the  AIs,  aus  S'dd-DeutschlancU  a  work 
which  it  cost  the  police  a  great  deal  of  trouble  to  sup- 
press. We  may  congratulate  ourselves,  that  the  dicta- 
tors of  Germany  have  agreed  to  consider  the::e  doc- 
trines as  revolutionary;  that,  at  all  events,  in  the  pre- 
sent state  of  the  world,  they  are  impracticable;  and 
that  the  Rhine,  the  Neckar,  and  the  Main,  are  much 
more  prolific  in  good  wines  than  in   expert  seameut 


] 


7&  JENA. 

CHAPTER  III. 

JENA. 

Stosst  an  !  Jena  lebe !  hurrah  hoch  ! 


Jena  Student  Hymn. 


The  vicinity  of  Jena,  always  one  of  the  most  distin- 
guished, and,  of  late  years,  by  far  the  most  notorious  of 
the  German  universities,  is,  to  a  stranger,  no  small  re- 
commendation of  Weimar  as  a  temporary  residence  ;  for 
a  week  of  the  courtly  society  and  enjoyments  of  the  one, 
interchanged  with  the  week  among  the  raw  students  and 
learned  professors  of  the  ottier, forms  a  pleasant  alterna- 
tion. The  pecuharlties  of  the  Burschen-iife,*  considered 
merely  as  matters  of  observation,  are  seen  to  much  less 
advantage  in  the  large  capitals,  than  in  what  are  properly 
termed  university  towns;  towns,  that  is,  which,  in  a 
great  measure,  have  been  formed  by  the  presence  of 
the  university,  and  are  dependent  upon  it.  In  Berlin, 
for  example,  however  much  the  Burschen  maj  be  in- 
clined to  tyrannize,  they  feel  that  they  are  but  as  a  drop 
in  the  ocean  ;  they  are  not  sufficiently  numerous,  in  refer- 
ence to  the  population,  to  be  personages  of  importance. 
Besides,  the  keen  eye  with  which  such  a  police  Watch- 
es all  their  vagaries,  and  the  promptitude  with  which 
a  military  police,  like  that  of  Berlin,  would  sjppress 
them,  the  ridicule  of  two  hundred  thousand  inhabitants 
is  more  than  they  could  well  endure,  while  tfie  man- 
hood of  such  a  population  is  more  thar)  the  most  per- 
severing Bohadil  amongst  them  would  undertake  to  de- 
cimate.    It  is    in    towns  which  consist  of  scarcely  any 

*  It  IB  necessary  to  mention,  once  for  nil,  that  the  word  Bursche^ 
though  it  only  meiins  h  yimng  fellow^  tias  been  n[»prf>priated  bv  *he 
6tJi<l;-nts,  all  over  Gerninnv,  to  (ies;g-nate  themselves.  Tliey  have 
agrfi'^H  to  consider  themselves  as  b^'jns",  par  excellence^  the  young 
fellows  of  Germany,  f^as  Burschenlebrn^  for  example,  mean;*,  not 
the  mode  of  life  of  young  men  ia  general,  but  only  of  young  men 
at  college. 


THE  TOWN.  77 

thing  but  the  university,  and  in  which  the  inhabitants 
are  dependent  on  the  presence  of  some  hundreds  of 
young  men  from  all  the  countries  of  the  Confederation, 
that  the  sect  appears  in  its  true  form  and  colour.  In 
these,  the  Burschen  themselves  constitute  the  public; 
in  these,  no  taint  of  extraneous  civilization  mars  the  pu- 
rity of  their  own  roughness  and  caprices  ;  and,  so  far 
from  acknowledging  any  superior,  they  recognize  no 
equal.  These  little  towns  are  the  empires  of  Com- 
ments, Landsmaniischaften,  and  Renommiren  ;  of  beer- 
drinking  and  duel-lighting  ;  of  scholars  who  set  their 
masters  at  defiance,  and  masters  who,  for  the  sake  of 
fees,  occasionally  truckle  to  their  scholars ;  and  no- 
where do  all  these  elements  of  the  beau  ideal  of  a  mo- 
deii)  German  university  concur  in  greater  perfection 
than  in  Jena. 

Jena  is  a  few  miles  to  the  eastward  of  Weimar,  and 
stands  in  a  much  more  pleasing  district  of  country  on 
the  Saal.  The  ground  separates  into  two  lofty,  pre- 
cipitous, rocky  ridges,  presenting  a  striking  regularity  and 
uniformity  of  structure,  but  so  bare,  that  even  in  sutn- 
mer  no  covering  of  verdure  conceals  the  brown  stone. 
These  ridges  terminate  abru[)tly  close  by  the  Saal, 
which  meanders  through  a  very  delightful  valley,  where 
the  rich  meadows  in  the  bottom,  tlie  cultivated  slopes 
of  tlie  hills,  the  cottages  and  hamlets  peeping  out  from 
tufts  of  copsewood,  or  lurking  beneath  ancient  elms,  are 
all  in  a  pure  style  of  rural  beriuiy.  The  river  itself  is 
a  considerable  and  hmpid  stream,  altogether  majestic 
in  comparison  with  the  muddy  II m  of  Weimar.  It  is 
no  wonder  that  Oothe  prefers  Jena  to  th.e  capital  for 
his  summer  residence.  The  town  itself  lies  between 
the  foot  (/f  the  al>rupt  emniences  and  the  river.  There 
is  nothing  about  it  worth v  of  remark.  Many  of  the 
houses dis[)lay  a  great  deal  «>f  the  oi-namental,  but  some- 
what grotesque, 'style  of  buildirig  which,  at  one  time, 
was  so  common  in  the  south  of  Germany,  and  of  which 
Augsburg,  in  particular,  is  still  so  full. 


78  JENA. 

Before  descending  into  the  town  by  a  road  which, 
in  winter  at  least,  is  among  the  very  worst  in  Europe, 
the  traveller  |)asses  the  lieid  of  battle  of  180b,  of  that 
melancholy  day  when 

Prussia  bnstened  to  the  fi''l<1, 

And  grasped  the  spe.'.r,  but  lefi  ihe  shield. 

L'-okinif  at  the  nature  of  the  ground,  the  defiles 
w^iich  tlie  Freiicii  army  iiad  tu  pass,  the  ascents  which 
it  had  to  climb,  and  the  batteries  winch  it  had  to  en- 
counter, as  it  advanced  from  Jena,  a  person,  who  is  no 
tactician,  finds  it  difficut  to  conceive  how  the  Prussians 
contrived  not  only  to  lose  ihc  battle,  but  to  lose  it  so 
thoroughly,  that  it  decided  the  fate  of  the  monarchy. 
Yet  there  are  few  things  more  absurd  than  the  con- 
tempt with  which,  from  the  period  of  this  unfortunate 
battle,  it  becatne  fashionable  for  France,  and  the  par- 
tial friends  of  Fi'ance  in  other  countries,  to  speak  of 
the  Prussian  mihrary,  an  ignorant  atfcctation  which 
even  the  gigantic  eiforts  ol  the  Liberation  War  have 
not  been  able  entirely  to  explode  from  anu^ng  our- 
selves. A  sini^le  battle  may  dec.de  the  fate  of  an  em- 
pire, but  can  never  decide  the  military  character  of  a 
peo[)le.  If  France,  under  Napoleon,  conquered  at 
Jena,  Prussia,  under  Frederick,  had  been  equally  tri- 
u.'»iphant  at  Rossbach.  Wljatever  errors  Prussia  may 
have  committed  on  the  heights  of  Auerstadt,  have  ail 
been  washed  out  by  the  waters  of  the  Bober  and  the 
Katzbach. 

The  university  was  founded  in  the  middle  of  the  se- 
ventecth  century,  by  the  sovereign  princes  of  the  Er- 
n<^shne  branch  of  the  house  of  Saxony,  Weimar,  Gotha, 
Cobourg,  and  Meinungen.  It  is  the  joint  [)roperty  of 
these  little  monarchs,  who  likewise  share  the  patron- 
age among  them.  In  practice,  however,  the  profes- 
sors are  named  only  by  Weimar  and  Gotha  ;  for  Co- 
bourg  and  Meinungen  have  transferred  their  right  to 
the  latter,  having  probably  found  that  the  power  of 
nominating  the  fourth  part  of  a  professor  was  not  worth 


PROFESSORS.  79 

the  expense  which  the  partnership  imposed  upon 
them.  By  the  constitution  of  the  university,  the  new 
professor  should  be  selecied  from  a  Hst  of  tljree  can- 
aidates  ejiven  In  by  the  Sonatus  Arademicus;  but  the 
senate  has  allowed  this  privihji;e  to  go  so  entirely  into 
disuse,  that,  for  a  long  tune,  iiot  ever»  the  form  has 
been  retained,  and  the  sovereign  nominates*  dnectly  to 
the  vacant  chair.  The  privilege  is  said  to  have  been 
abused  by  the  faculties.  I  was  assured  by  members 
of  the  university  that  the  senate  has  been  known,  troni 
mere  envy  of  superior  talent,  to  pass  by  a  man  of  ac- 
knowledged genius,  and  give  in  a  list  of  three  acknowl- 
edged blockheads. 

The  constitution  of  the  unHersity  is  the  sahie  with 
that  which  prevails  all  over  Germany.  It  consists  of 
the  four  usual  faculties,  the  Theological,  Juridical,  JVle- 
dlcal,  and  P  niosophical,  though,  in  some  instances,  the 
distinction  be; ween  them  Is  not  very  accurately  ob- 
served. As  eveiy  thing  not  Included  under  the  first 
three  is  referred  to  the  philosophical  faculty,  and  as 
they  had  been  established  long  before  many  branches 
of  knowledge  rose  to  the  rank  of  separate  sciences,  the 
philosophical  assumes  a  most  heterogeneous  appear- 
ance; Greek  and  Chemistry,  Logic  and  JVlinerahgy, 
Belles-Letters  and  B;'tany,  stand  side  by  side  in -the 
academical  array.  For  the  ordinary  departments  of 
study,  there  are  three  sets  of  Instructors.  The  ordi- 
nar'y  professors  are,  as  their  name  lm|>orts,  the  proper 
corporation  :  they  constitute  the  faculties,  elect  from 
among  themselves  the  members  of  tlie  senate,  confer 
the  degrees,  exercise  the  jurisdiction,  and  appoint  the 
inferior  officers  of  the  university,  and  receive  salaries. 
Jena  has  twentv-elght ;  four  theolo<:";iar!S,  nc  fev»'er  than 
nine  jurisconsult^,  five  medical,  and  ten  philosophical 
professors.  The  extraordinary  professors  are  in  a  man- 
ner volunteers  ;  they  have  no  seat  in  the  faculty,  no 
share  in  the  authority  of  the  corporation,  and  receive 
either  no  salary,   or   a   very    trifling  one.     The  third 


80  JENA. 

class,  Doctores  privaiim  docentes,  have  in  reality  nothing 
to  do  with  the  university,  except  that  they  are  under 
its  protechon,  and  have  its  authority  to  teach  ;  they 
are  merely  young  men,  wlio,  having  taken  a  diploma 
in  some  one  of  the  faculties,  have  obtained  the  per- 
mission of  the  senate  to  give  lectures,  if  they  can  find 
hearers.  There  are  likewise  attached  to  the  univer- 
sity, as  every  where  else  in  Germany,  teachers  of  the 
principal  modern  languages,  and  masters,  moreover,  in 
riding,  fencing,  dancing,  music,  and  drawing.  All  these, 
to  he  sure,  are  in  reality  only  private  teachers,  but 
they  are  an  indispensable  appendix  to  the  university, 
and,  in  the  eyes  of  great  part  of  the  students,  this 
appendiJi,  like  the  postscript  of  a  lady's  letter,  is  the 
most  important  member  of  the  Alma  Mater.  A  pro- 
fessor of  law  or  theology  might  be  of  moderate  attain- 
ments without  doing  much  mischief;  but  few  would 
think  of  attending  a  university  which  did  not  possess 
able  masters  in  fencing,  riding,  and  dancing.  The  first 
of  these  three  is  the  only  personage  whom  the  Burs- 
chen  recognize  as  sacrosanct. 

The  salaries  of  the  professors  are  small,  for  how 
can  so  DOor  and  insio^nificant  a  country  be  muiuficent  in 
its  learned  institutions  ?  They  used  to  be  four  hun- 
dred rix  dollars;  Avithin  these  few  years  they  have 
been  raised  to  five  hundred,  a  sum  which  does  not  ex- 
ceed L.  80,  and  is  little  more  than  what  is  required  to 
bring  a  respectable  student  through  a  well  spent  yt-ar 
at  Gottiniren.  This  rule,  however,  is  not  always  strict- 
\y  observed.  When  it  is  wished  to  bring  a  person  of 
eminence  to  the  university,  and  the  man  knows  his  own 
value,  (which  he  generally  does,)  it  is  neither  unusual 
nor  im[)roper  to  find  him  higjj^ling  for  a  hundred  or 
two  hundred  dollars  more.  The  teachers  are  thus 
very  far  from  being  independent  of  the  students  and 
their  fees,  a  dependence  which  has  brought  with  it 
both  good  and  bad  consequences.  It  has  been  useful, 
as  competition  always  is,    by  urging    the   professors  to 


PROFESSORS.  81 

acquire  reputation,  that  they  may  acquire  hearers  ;  but 
it  has  been  injurious  by  seducing  them  to  court  popu- 
larity by  relaxing  the  reins  of  disci phne,  and  overlook- 
ing many  of  the  evils  of  the  Burschen-life,  tliat  they 
might  draw  crowds  to  their  university  by  giving  it  the 
character  of  being  the  one  where  the  follies  and  vices 
of  the  system  which  German  students  have  establish- 
ed for  their  own  government,  were  least  exposed  to 
punishment  and  restraint.  The  fee,  like  the  salary, 
varies  with  the  reputation  of  the  teacher.  The  usual 
fee  for  a  session  is  five  rix  dollars,  (15s.  6d.)  yet  there 
are  instances  of  a  sturdy  higgler  beating  down  even 
this  trifling  sum.  On  the  other  hand,  there  are  pre- 
lections, especially  in  the  medical  faculty,  which  go  as 
high  as  a  guinea.  In  other  branches  of  expense,  the 
German  student  has  not  the  same  overwhelming  ad- 
vantage ;  but  altogether,  living  as  a  respectable  Bursche 
would  wish  to  do,  he  can  enjoy,  for  half  the  money, 
the  same  education  he  could  command  in  Scotland. 
The  English  universities,  in  their  general  character, 
never  come  into  question ;  they  are  seminaries  for  par- 
ticular classes.  A  distinguished  member  of  the  juridi- 
cal faculty  at  Jena  was  particularly  inquisitive  about 
the  economical  relations  of  his  brethren  in  Britain. 
When  l  spoke  to  him  of  a  professor  of  law,  in  Edin- 
burp[h,  for  example,  adding  to  his  salary  a  body  of  three 
hundred  students  at  four  guineas  a  head,  for  ^\e  months' 
labour,  the  astonished  jurisconsult  could  only  exclaim, 
"  O  das  gesegnete  Vblklein  .'" — "  What  a  blessed  flock !" 
Even  the  fees,  moderate  though  they  be,  are  but  of 
recent  origin.  In  the  original  constitution  of  the  Ger- 
man universities,  there  was  no  provision  for  honoraries; 
during  many  years,  the  professors  continued  to  deliver 
their  lectures  gratis.  Michaelis  of  Gottingen  was 
among  the  first  who  openly  attacked  the  system,  and  a 
revolution,  so  desirable  to  the  teach.ers,  was  speedily 
accomplished.  Tfie  professors  argued  thus  ;  by  law 
we  must  give  lectures  gratis,  but  that  is  no  reason  why 

11 


82  JENA. 

we  should  not  likewise  give  others,  not  gratis,  to  those 
who  are  willing  to  pay  for  them;  and  if  we  only  take 
care  that  the  former  shall  be  good  for  nothing,  and  re- 
serve for  the  latter  all  that  is  worth  knowing,  every 
body  who  wishes  to  learn  will  choose  to  pay.  This 
principle  once  adopted,  the  progress  of  the  thing  was 
quite  natural,  and  the  distinction  between  public  and 
private  lectures  in  a  German  program  becomes  per- 
fectly intelligible.  The  professors  gradually  introduced 
a  separate  course  of  prelections,  which  they  called  pri- 
vate, and  for  which  they  exacted  fees.  The  public, 
that  is,  the  gratis  lectures,  rapidly  became  superficial 
and  uninteresting,  while  every  thing  important  in  the 
science  which  he  taught  was  reserved,  by  the  profes- 
sor, for  the  golden  privatim.  The  natural  consequence 
was,  that  public  or  gratis  lectures  disappeared,  and 
what  were  called  private  took  their  place.  These 
private  lectures  are,  in  every  respect,  except  that  of 
expense,  the  old  public  lectures ;  they  are  given  in  the 
same  place,  in  the  same  way,  on  the  same  topics,  but 
they  must  be  paid  for ;  because  it  has  unavoidably 
come  to  this,  that  a  student  as  little  thinks  of  attending, 
as  a  professor  of  delivering,  public  lectures  in  the  old 
sense  of  the  word.  A  student  could  not  find  a  suffi- 
cient number  of  them  to  complete  any  course ;  and, 
though  he  did,  to  take  advantage  of  them  would  make 
him  be  regarded  by  his  fellows  as  a  charity-school  boy. 
Among  the  host  of  professors  at  Jena,  there  are  few 
who  have  ever  read  a  puhlicmn  in  their  lives ;  and  they 
are  perfectly  right.  If  it  be  bad  in  a  wealthy  govern- 
ment to  make  public  instructors  independent  of  intel- 
lectual exertion,  it  would  be  preposterous  in  a  poor 
one,  which  cannot  give  them  a  decent  independence,  to 
deny  them  the  fruits  of  their  intellectual  labour.  Even 
where  a  wandering  piiblice  makes  its  appearance,  it  is 
uniformly  accompanied  with  some  such  significant 
phrase  as,  horis  et  diebus  commodis  ;  or,  adhuc  definien- 
dis ;  or  the  subject  of  the   promised  prelections  has 


DIVISION  OF  LECTURES.  8$ 

little  to  do  with  the  department  in  question.  Thus 
Lenz,  the  Professor  of  Mineralogy,  announced,  for  his 
private  course,  mineralogy  and  geognosy ;  but,  for  his 
pubHc  course,  and  that,  too,  only  hora  commoda^ — Ger- 
man Antiquities  !  Some  of  the  professors  give  a  third 
course,  which  is  announced  as  privatissime  and  must  be 
paid  for  at  a  still  higher  rate  than  the  simply  private. 
Thus,  the  Professor  of  Anatomy  offers  to  explain  Cel- 
sus,  and  the  Professor  of  Medicine  to  give  lectures  on 
animal  magnetism,  privatissime^ — certainly  the  only 
way  in  which  animal  magnetism  should  be  taught  by 
any  man  who  does  not  wish  the  cheat  to  be  disco- 
vered.* 

*  This  delusion,  after  bavinj^  been  argued  and  scoffed  out  of  the 
world,  half  a  century  ago,  is  regaining  favour  in  Germany.  It  is 
a  remarkable  thing  that  a  people  so  plodding,  and  so  given  to  mat- 
ter of  fact,  as  we  commonly  suppose  the  Germans  to  be,  should  be 
so  easily  captivated  by  the  most  fanciful  deluions.  From  Van 
Helmont  down  to  Gall  and  Spurzheim,  they  have  been  the  dupes 
of  a  thousand  physical  and  physiological  dreams  ;  craniology  and 
animal  magnetism  have  equally  led  them  astray.  Devotion  to  the 
former  of  these  occult  sciences  seems  to  have  been  handed  over 
to  ourselves,  for  the  sect  is  much  more  powerfnl,  and  better  or- 
ganized, in  Edinburgh  than  in  Vienna  ;  and,  if  its  doctrines  do  not 
lead  to  materialism,  phrenology  is,  at  least,  an  innocent  dream. 
Animal  magnetism^,  however,  though  a  deceit  of  a  much  more 
serious  complexion,  is  not  only  reckoned  worthy,  as  is  stated  in 
the  text,  of  being  the  subject  of  prelections  by  a  grave  medical 
professor  in  an  university  of  reputation,  but  the  same  gentleman 
is  one  of  the  conductors  of  a  journal  devoted  to  explain  the  prin- 
ciples, and  commemorate  the  triumphs,  of  this  sensual  romaijce. 
It  has  led,  however,  to  certain  scenes  of  domestic  misery  and  dis- 
honour, which  will  be  much  more  effectual  in  restraining  its  pro- 
gress, than  periods  of  invective,  or  volumes  of  argument.  A  very 
melancholy  instance  occurred  in  Berlin  in  18'20,  one  which  was 
still  the  great  topic  of  conversation  when  1  was  shortly  afterwards 
in  that  capital,  for  it  had  been  kept  alive  by  a  judicial  investiga- 
tion on  a  criminal  charge  preferred  against  Dr.  W ,  the  actor 

in  the  affair,  the  great  apostle  of  the  doctrine  in  Prussia,  and, 
moreover,  a  professor  in  the  university.  The  unfortunate  victim 
was  a  young  lady  of  very  respectable  family.  She  had  been  led, 
by  curiosity,  to  visit  the  apartments  in  which  the  Doctor  performs 
the  magnetical  process   on  a  number  of  patients,  in  presence  of 


84  JENA. 

No  better  proof  of  their  love  of  fees,  and,  what  is 
much  better,  of  their  proverbial  industry,  can  be  found 

each  other ;  and  it  is  at  once  a  very  decisive,   and  a  very  intelli- 
gible fact,  in  the  science,  that  females  are  found  to  be  much  apter 
subjects  for  the  influences  of  this  black  art  than  the  other  sex.     In 
the  course  of  the  judicial  examinations,  rendered  necessary  by  the 
unhappy  issue  of  the  affair,    the  mysteries  of  these  magnetizing- 
rooms  were  partly  brought  to  light;  and  though  there  was  nothing 
in  them  positively  scandalous  or  indecent,  there  was  a  great  deal 
that  was  ridiculous  and  Paphian,  and  of  a  most  improper  tendency. 
According  to  the  testimony  of  the  young  lady,  when  she  first  visit- 
ed the  rooms,  accompanied  by  a  female  friend,  the  wizard  receiv- 
ed them  in  a  spacious  and  elegant  apartment.     Voluptuous  odours 
breathed  from  every  corner,  and,  united  with  the   moderate  tem- 
perature, produced  an   effect  which  the   fair  one   described,  with 
great  naivete^   as  being  "  like  a  May  evening   among  roses."     She 
and  her  companion  were  requested  not  to  utter  a  S3dlable,  lest  the 
solemn   work   might  be  disturbed.     The   patients,   all  ladies,  and 
ladies  of  fortune,  (for  their  carriages  were  in  waiting,)   were  ar- 
ranged round  the  room  on  sofas,  sound  asleep  ;  some  were  sitting, 
others  were  reclining  quite  along  a  sofn,   others  had   more  decor- 
ously thrown   themselves  back  in  the  corner.     The   Doctor  bent 
his  head  over  one  of  them,  and  gently  lisped,  My  dear  young  lady, 
how   long  will  you  still  sleep  ?     To  this  Hibernian  interrogation, 
the  sleeping  beauty  answered,  in  a  languishing,  broken  voice  St-st- 
still  ha-half-an-hour. — Dr   Where  are  you  just  now  ? — Lady.  Under 
a  blooming  elder  tree. — Dr.  What  do  you   see  ? — fj.  A  knight. — 
Dr.  What  is  he  like? — L   He's  a  handsome   fellow. — Dr.  Are  you 
speaking  with   him  ? — L.  Yes.— Dr.    What  about  ? — L.  About  all 
sorts  of  things. — Dr.  What  are  you  catching  at  ? — L.  At  the   rose 
of  Jericho. — Dr.  What  do  you  mean   by  that  ?     Here  the  lady's 
botany  had   failed  her ;  for  she  made   no  answer,  squeezed  herself 
into  the  corner  of  the  sofa,  and  slept   on  in  silence.     The  Doctor, 
therefore,  assured  his  visitors,  that  this  was  no  complete  crisis,  but 
that  he  would  immediately  show  them  wonders;  and  truly,  if  what 
foUovvs  be  not  a  wonder,  the  age  of  miracles  must  be   allowed  to 
have   finally    passed   away.     He    began   his   conversation   with   a 
second   sleeping  beauty   with  the  same   question  ;  Will  you   sleep 
long,  my  young   lady  ? — L.  Yes  ;  at  least   half-an-hour. — Dr.  Per- 
haps  you    would    take    something? — L.    Yes,  Doctor,   yes. —  Dr. 
What  would  you   wish  to  have? — L.  A  piece  of  almond  cake,  and 
a  glass  of  Malaga. — Dr.  Shall   I  bring  it   to  you  ?  - /^.  Oh  no;  do 
you  take  it  <'or  me,  and  that  does  just  as  well.     The  Doctor  takes 
the   viands   from  a  cup-board,   in    which  sach   cooling  medicines 
seem  to  have   been  always  kept  in    read  ness,  and   putting  inio  his 
fnouth  a  bit  of  the  biscuit,  and  some  of  the  wine,  continues,  How 


DIVISION  OF  LECTURES.  85 

than  the  numerous  subdivisions  into  which  they  break 
down   their   particular  departments,    converting  each 

does  it  taste  ? — "  Excellent,"  answered  the  lady,  mimicking  the  act 
of  eating  and  swallowing,  "  Excellent,  the  cake  has  so  balsamic 
an  odour !  the  Malaga  is  so  sweet  and  agreeable  !  But,  dear  Doc- 
tor, eat  and  drink  a  great  deal ;  do  you  hear? — a  great  deal  ; — and 
let  it  be  good,  right  good  ; — do  you  understand  me  ?  By  Nardini ! 
— Yes,  by  Nardini !  who  bakes  such  excellent  trifles? — Do  you 
hear,  dear  Doctor  ? — Trifles  ! — ah  !  that's  what  gives  one  strength ; 
— do  you  understand  me  ?"  But  the  Doctor  seemed  to  think  this 
crisis  rather  too  complete;  for,  knitting  his  brows,  he  said,  "  lou 
are  sleeping  too  long,  Miss;"  made  various  motions  with  his  hands, 
which  dispelled,  in  an  instant,  the  magnetical  repose,  and  recalled 
to  herself  the  slumbering  admirer  of  Nardini's  trifles.  As  it  was 
getting  lale,  she  wished  her  carriage  to  be  called;  but  the  Doctor 
thought  it  proper  that  she  should  compose  herself,  after  so  violent 
a  crisis.  He,  therefore,  again  sawed  the  air  with  his  fingers,  star- 
ed her  right  m  the  face,  and,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  she  was 
again  fast  asleep.  He  npxt  approached  a  third,  on  whom  he  pro- 
mised to  display  the  highest  excellence  of  his  art.  He  laid  his 
right  hand  on  the  pit  of  her  heart,  and,  with  his  left,  took  hold  of 
her  right  hand.  Every  motion  he  now  made  was  repeated  by  the 
sleeping  patient  He  yawned,  sighed,  laughed,  coughed;  she 
yawned,  sighed,  laughed,  and  coughed  along  with  him.  All  mo- 
tions with  his  lips,  arms,  and  hands,  were  immediately  repeated. 
He  laid  a  letter  on  her  lap ;  she  passed  her  fingers  over  the  lines, 
and  repeated  the  contents  correctly.  ''  Are  you  now  convinced?" 
exclaimed  the  Doctor  in  triumph. 

The  lady  departed,  still  m  doubt  ;  but  these  amusing  scenes  had 
so  far  shaken  her  original  scepticism,  that  the  magician  easiiy  pre- 
vailed upon  her  to  arrive  at  certainty,  by  having  the  truth  display- 
ed in  her  own  person.  The  process  was  carried  on  in  her  father's 
house.  She  was  placed  on  a  sofa  ;  the  Doctor  took  a  seat  oppo- 
site to  her,  stared  her  stedfastly  in  the  face,  and  her  eye^  began 
to  close  involuntarily.  After  an  exordium,  which  !  do  not  choose 
to  translate,  he  described  waving  lines  upon  the  shoulders,  arms, 
and  breast,  with  the  points  of  his  perfumed  fingers,  and  an  impos- 
ing solemnity  of  gesture.  The  experiments  were  repeated  with 
triumphant  success,  sometimes  in  the  presence  of  the  lady-s  moth- 
er and  sisters;  but.  when  others  were  present^  the  magnetic  infivence 
was  uniformly  less  vivacious.  To  the  poor  girl,  conviction  and  ruin 
came  toofether  ;  a  miscreant  could  find  httle  dilhculty  in  abusing 
the  menial  imbecility  which  must  rjlways  accon.i[):my  such  volup- 
tuous fiinaticism,  and  the  sensual  irritation  without  whicii  the 
visionary  science  has  not  even  a  fact.  I  cannot  enter  intc  the 
details  of  the  miserable  and  disgusting   circumstances  which  ioU 


86  JENA. 

into  the  subject-matter  of  a  separate  course,  and  not 
unfrequently  superadding  to  them  prelections  which 
appear  to  have  little  connection  with  their  proper 
business.  Every  professor,  though  appointed  to  teach 
a  particular  s(*ience,  is  left  to  his  own  discretion  as  to 
the  manner  in  which  he  shall  teach  it;  and  the  Pro- 
testant universities  aie  accustomed  to  boast  of  this 
liberty  as  an  advantage  which  they  enjoy  over  their 
Catholic  rivals,  with  whom  the  how  as  well  as  the  what 
of  public  teaching,  and  even  the  text-books  that  shall 
be  used,  are  laid  down  by  positive  rule.  In  the  former, 
the  professor  is  left  entirely  to  the  freedom  of  his  own 
will.  In  the  course  of  the  session,  that  is,  in  about  five 
months,  he  may  go  through  his  science,  and  immediately 
begin  it  again  for  the  next ;  but,  in  general,  he  adopts 
a  plan  by  which  more  fees  are  brougtit  in,  and  the 
science  is  perhaps  better  taught.  He  breaks  down 
his  subject  into  separate  courses,  which  are  carried  on 
simultaneously  ;  for  he  either  devotes   a  certain  num- 

lowed.  Excess  of  villany  brought  the  whole  affair  before  a  court 
of  justice,  and  the  Prussian  public.  It  was  clear,  that  what  was  to 
become  the  living  witness  of  their  guilt,  had  met  with  foul  play, 
and  the  enraged  father  preferred  against  the  professor  an  accusa- 
tion of  a  crime  which  is  next  to  murder,  or,  rather,  which  threa- 
tens a  double  murder.  The  judges  ordered  the  recipes  of  certain 
medicines  which  the  Doctor  had  administered  to  the  lady  to  be 
submitted  to  three  medical  gentlemen  for  their  opinion.   The  report 

of  these   gentlemen  rendered  it  impossible  to   convict  Dr.  W 

of  having  used  the  drugs  directly  for  his  infamous  purpose  ;  but 
as,  in  certain  circumstances,  their  indirect  operation  would  lead 
to  the  same  issue,  the  professional  persons  gave  it  as  their  opin- 
ion, that  the  professor,  not  only  a  physician  in  high  practice,  but 
likewise  an  instructor  of  youth,  was  bound  to  explain,  on  what 
grounds  he  had  administered  medicines  oi  a  most  suspicious  class, 
in  circumstances  where  no  prudent  medieal  man  would  have  pre- 
scribed thorn.  The  man  did  not  choose  to  do  himself  this  justice  ; 
but  the  court  did  not  think  there  was  sufficient  evidence  to  con- 
vict him  of  the  direct  charge  ;  and,  without  a  conviction,  the  go- 
vernment did  not  think  it  right  to  dismiss  him.  The  censorship, 
however,  does  not  seem  to  have  presented  any  obstacle  to  the 
publication  of  the  details.  Professor  W has  lost  his  charac- 
ter, but  retains  his  chair. 


DIVISION  OF  LECTURES.  87 

ber  of  days  in  the  week  to  one,  and  the  rest  to  anoth- 
er, or  lectures  two  or  three  hours  a-day.  Thus  every 
thing  is  taught  more  in  detail,  the  professors  get  more 
money,  and  have  much  harder  labour.  But  they  are 
a  race  most  patient  of  toil.  It  has  been  said  of  Mi- 
chaelis,  that  he  was  so  identified  with  his  profession, 
that  he  never  was  happy  but  when  reading  lectures, 
and  that  all  the  days  in  his  calendar  were  white,  ex- 
cept the  holidays.  His  mantle  seems  to  have  descend- 
ed on  the  greatest  part  of  his  followers  between  the 
Vistula  and  the  Rhine.  At  Jena,  Stark,  whose  pecu- 
liar department  is  the  obstetric  art,  was  lecturing  at 
one  hour  on  the  tl.^^ory,  and,  at  a  second,  in  the  Lying- 
in  Hospital,  on  the  practice  of  midwifery ;  at  a  third, 
upon  surgery  ;  at  a  fourth,  on  the  diseases  of  the  eye  ; 
and,  at  a  fifth,  was  giving  clinical  lectures  in  the  Infir- 
mary. Kieser,  another  celebrated  member  of  the 
same  faculty,  was  occupying  two  different  hours  with 
two  separate  courses  in  medicine ;  for  a  third,  he  an- 
nounced animal  magnetism;  and  for  a  fourth,  the  ana- 
tomy and  physiology  of  plants.  Of  the  two  properly 
medical  courses,  the  first  was  general  pathology ;  the 
second,  which,  if  taken  at  all,  must  be  taken  and  paid 
for  as  a  separate  course,  was  a  particular  part  of  the 
general  doctrine,  inflammations,  but  treated  more  in 
detail. 

One  of  our  own  professors,  who,  though  receiving 
four  times  the,  money,  impatiently  reckons  every  hour 
till  his  five  brief  months  of  moderate  labour  be  past, 
could  not  hold  out  for  a  single  year  among  these  gen- 
tlemen, for  they  have  two  sessions  In  the  year,  each  of 
about  five  months.  Their  only  period  of  relaxation  is 
an  interval  of  a  month  between  one  session  and  the 
other,  which,  however,  they  generally  contrive  to 
stretch  out  to  six  weeks,  by  finishing  the  one  course  a 
few  days  earlier,  and  commencing  the  other  a  few 
days  later,  than  strict  rule  allows.  The  professor 
who  lectured  on  the  Pandects  was  reading  three  hours 


»a  JENA. 

a  day,  two  of  them  successively ; — an  enormous  task 
boiii  for  him  and  bis  pupils.  This  department  being 
so  heavy,  tihee  gentlemen  of  the  juridical  faculty  read 
the  Pandects  in  their  turn. 

The  lawyers  have  thus  hard  work,  but  they  are 
likewise  much  more  amply  provided  for  than  their 
brethren;  their  salaries,  and  the  fees  derived  from 
students,  do  not  constitute  one-half  of  their  emolu- 
ments. The  juridical  faculty,  in  every  German  uni- 
versity, forms  a  court  of  appeal  for  the  whole  Confe- 
deration. In  all  the  states,  the  losing  party  in  a  cause 
had  the  right  of  appealing  to  an  university;  this  right 
was  confiT  lOfid  by  the  Act  of  Confederation  ;  and  even 
the  native  Forum,  if  it  find  difficulties  which  require 
the  assistance  of  more  profound  jurisconsults,  may  send 
the  case  for  judgment  to  an  university.  In  all  these 
appeals,  the  menjbers  of  the  juridical  faculty  become 
judges;  they  receive  no  salary  for  this  part  of  their 
duty,  but  they  are  entitled  to  certain  fees  paid  by  the 
litigants,  which,  at  Jena,  I  have  heard  estimated  as 
being  at  least  equal  to  the  professorial  salary.  To 
this  union  of  the  bench  with  the  chair  are  undoubted- 
ly to  be  ascribed,  in  some  measure,  the  distinguished 
lesal  talents  which  have  at  all  times  adorned  the  Ger- 
man  universities,  and  which,  in  the  present  day,  are 
far  from  belnoj  extinct.  The  theoretical  studies  of  the 
academician  are  thus  dally  brought  to  the  test  of  prac- 
tice, and  he  sees,  at  every  moment,  how  his  logical 
deductions  work  in  the  affairs  of  ordinary  life.  The 
prince,  likewise,  had  thus  a  direct  Interest  to  fill  these 
chairs  with  distinguished  men;  for,  the  greater  the 
quantity  of  profitable  business,  the  smaller  was  the 
necessity  for  supplying  or  increasing  salaries  at  his  own 
expense. 

The  lawyers  of  Jena  have  still  a  third  source  of  toil 
and  emolument,  equal  to  either  of  the  preceding,  be- 
cause they  constitute  the  Ober'appellatmis-Gericht^  or 
Supreme  Court  of  Appeal,  not  only  for  the  grand  du- 


LAW.  »9 

chy,  but  likewise  for  the  other  small  Saxon  Houses, 
and  the  two  branches  of  Reuss.^  This  pluraiity  of 
offices  is  not,  perhaps,  very  favourable  to  tlie  indepen- 
dence of  the  judges  ;  for,  though  not  re  moveable  from 
tfie  bench,  yet,  in  consequence  of  the  decision  of  the 
Landtag  already  referred  to,  they  can  be  removed 
from  I  heir  chairs  at  tlie  plsacure  of  the  Grand  Duke; 
and  it  is  perfectly  natural,  that  the  fears  of  the  re- 
moveable  professor  should  influence  the  conduct  of  the 
irremoveable  judge.  Th^e  poverty,  however,  of  these 
htlle  governments,  renders  such  an  accumulation  of 
offices  indispensable  ;  for,  unless  a  man  were  thus  al- 
lowed to  insure  a  competency,  the  finances  could  not 
maintain  such  a  supreme  tribunal  as  would  command 
the  public  respect,  and  place  its  members  above  the 
temptation  of  stooping  to  unworthy  gains.  The  pro- 
ceedings in  all  cases  are  entirely  in  writing,  and  not  a 
human  being  is  admitted  to  witness  them.  '"I  can 
show  you  the  room,  the  table,  and  the  chairs,"  said  a 
member  of  the  court,  "but  I  can  do  nothing  more  for 
you."  It  is  strange  enough,  that  though,  in  the  con- 
flict of  modern  politics,  the  professors  of  Jena  have 
been  cried  down  as  being  leavened  with  a  portion  of 
liberalism  approaching  to  treason,  yet  the  lawyers, 
with  all  their  talent  and  political  liberality,  display  a 
rooted  dislike  to  trial  by  jury,  and  the  publicity  ol  ju- 
dicial proceedings.  The  labours  of  Feuerbach,  how- 
ever, on  the  other  side,  have  not  been  without  effect. 
The  same  lawyers  who  detest  juries,  are  willing  to 
admit    publicity    in   criminal    trials;   but    they  cannot 

*  By  the  Act  of  Confederation  it  is  provided,  that  every  state 
whose  population  does  not  amount  to  three  hundred  thousand 
souls,  shall  unite  itself  with  others  sufficiently  populous  tn  make 
up  that  numher,  for  the  erection  of  a  common  Supreme  Court  of 
Appeal.  The  jurisdiction  of  that  of  Jena  extends  to  the  territo- 
ries of  Weimar,  Gotha,  Cohourg,  Meinungen,  and  Hilhurg-hausen ; 
and  to  these  have  been  added  the  petty  famdies  of  Reuss,  from 
the  proximity  of  their  territories  to  the  Saxon  duchies. 

12 


96  JENA. 

think  of  it  with  patience  in  civil  suits;  first,  becaus^s 
people  would  take  no  interest  in  them  ;  second,  be- 
cause, though  they  did,  they  would  not  understand 
them ;  third,  because,  though  they  did  understand 
ihem,  they  have  no  right  to  know  other  people's  pri- 
vate affiirs. 

The  mode  of  teaching  is  almost  entirely  the  same 
as  in  the  Scottish  Universities.  The  students  live 
where  they  choose,  and  how  they  choose,  having  no 
connection  with  the  University,  except  subjection  to  its 
discipline,  which  they  do  not  much  regard,  and  atten- 
dance at  the  appointed  hour  in  the  Professor's  lecture- 
room,  where  nobody  knows  whetLer  they  be  present 
or  not.  The  lectures  are  given  in  German;  and,  after 
a  small  theatre,  like  that  of  Weimar,  there  are  lew 
surer  meap.s  of  mastering  this  beautiful,  but  difficult 
lanofuaofe,  than  to  atterid  the  prelections  cf  a  Professor 
on  some  popular  topic,  such  as  history.  There  is  no 
particular  university-building  set  apart  for  the  classes; 
at  least,  the  building  which  bears  the  name  is  not  ap- 
plied to  that  purpose  ;  it  contains  onh^  the  library  and 
the  jail.  Such  of  the  Professors  as  have  small  classes 
assemble  them  in  their  own  dwelling-houses.  Others, 
who  can  boast  of  a  more  numerous  auditory,  have 
larger  halls  in  dilferent  parts  of  the  town.  There  is 
not  a  class-room  in  Jena,  which  would  contain  more 
than  two  hundred  persons ;  and,  now  that  its  honours 
have  been  blighted,  that  is  a  greater  number  than  any 
of  its  learned  men  can  hope  to  collect.  Till  of  late 
years,  however,  the  Professor  of  History,  an  extreme- 
ly able  and  popular  gentleman,  used  to  have  a  much 
more  numerous  auditory.  When  he  occasionally  de- 
livered a  publicum,  the  overflowing  audience  filled 
even  the  court ;  the  windows  were  thrown  open,  and 
his  resounding  voice  was  heard  distinctly  in  every 
corner. 

Nothing  can  exceed  the  orderly  behaviour  of  the 
students;  they  seem  to  leave  all  their  oddities  at  the 


MODE  OF  TEACHING.  91 

door.  Savage  though  thcj  be  esteeaied,  a  stringer 
may  hospatize,  as  tliey  call  it,  among  them  in  perlcct 
safety,  even  without  putting  himself  under  the  wing  of 
a  Professor.  Every  man  takes  his  seat  quietly,  puts 
his  bonnet  beneath  him,  or  in  his  pocket,  unfohls  his 
small  portfolio,  and  produces  an  ink  horn,  armed  below 
with  a  sharp  iron  spike,  by  which  he  fixes  it  firmly  in 
the  wooden  desk  befoi'e  him.  The  teacher  has  notes 
and  his  text-book  before  him,  but  the  lecture  s  not 
properly  read  ;  those,  at  least,  which  I  heard,  were 
spoken,  and  the  Professor  stood.  This  mode  of  com- 
munication is  only  advisable  when  a  man  is  thoroughly 
master  of  his  subject,  but  is  perhaps  susceptible  of 
much  more  eiFect  than  the  reading  of  a  manuscript. 
Above  all,  Martin,  the  Professor  of  Criminal  Law,  aiid 
Luden,  the  Pi'ofessor  of  History,  harangue  with  a  vi- 
vacity and  vehemence,  which  render  listlessness  or 
inattention  impossible. 

Thus  the  hour  is  spent  in  listening,  and  it  is  left  en- 
tirely to  the  young  men  themselves  to  make  w-hat  use 
they  may  think  proper,  or  no  use  at  all,  of  what  they 
have  heai'd.  There  is  no  other  superintendence  of 
their  studies,  than  that  of  the  Professor  in  his  pulpit, 
telling  them  what  he  himself  knows;  there  are  no  ar- 
rangements to  secure,  in  any  degree,  either  attendance 
or  application.  The  received  maxim  is,  that  it  is  right 
to  tell  them  what  they  ought  to  do,  but  it  would  be 
neither  proper  nor  useful  to  take  care  that  they  do  it, 
or  prevent  them  from  being  as  idle  and  ignorant  as 
they  choose. 

Once  outside  of  the  class-room,  the  Burschen  show 
themselves  a  much  less  orderly  race  ;  if  they  submit 
to  be  ruled  one  hour  daily  by  a  professor,  they  rule 
him,  and  every  other  person,  during  all  the  rest  of  the 
four  and  twenty.  The  duels  of  the  day  are  generally 
fought  out  early  in  the  morning;  the  spare  hours  of 
the  forenoon  and  afternoon  are  spent  in  fencing,  in 
renoivning — that  is,  in  doing  things  which  make  peop.e 


92  JENA* 

stare  at  them,  and  in  providing  duels  for  the  morrow. 
In  the  evening,  the  various  clans  assemble  in  their 
commerz-houses,  to  besot  themselves  with  beer  and 
tobacco ;  and  it  is  long  after  midnight  before  the  last 
strains  of  the  last  songs  die  awaj  upon  the  streets. 
Wine  is  not  the  staple  beverage,  for  Jena  is  not  a  wine 
country,  and  the  students  have  learned  to  place  a  sort 
of  pride  in  drinking  beer.  Yet,  with  a  very  natural 
contradiction,  over  their  pots  of  beer  they  vociferate 
songs  in  praise  of  the  grape,  and  owing  their  jugs  with 
as  much  o^lee  as  a  Bursche  of  Heidelberg  brandishes 
his  romer  of  Rhenish.  Amid  all  their  multifarious  and 
peculiar  strains  of  jovialty,  1  never  heard  but  one  in 
praise  of  the  less  noble  liquor  :^ 

Come,  brothers,  be  jovial,  while  life  creeps  along" ; 
Make  the  walls  ring  around  us  with  laughter  and  song. 
Though  wine,  it  is  true,  be  a  rarity  here, 
We'll  be  jolly  as  gods  with  tobacco  and  beer. 
Vivallerallerallera. 

Corpus  Juris,  avaunt !  To  the  door  with  the  Pandects  ! 
Away  with  Theology's  texts,  dogmas,  and  sects  ! 
Foul  Medicine,  begone  !   At  the  board  of  our  revels, 
Brother**,  Muses  like  these  give  a  man  the  blue  devils, 
Vivallerallerallera. 

One  canH  always  be  studying;  a  carouse,  on  occasion, 
Is  a  sine  qua  non  in  a  man's  education  ; 
One  is  hound  to  get  muddy  and  mad  now  and  then ; 
But  our  beer  jugj>  are  empty,  so  fill  them  again. 
Vivallerallerallera. 

A  band  of  these  young  men,  thus  assembled  in  an 
ale-liouse  in  the  evening,  presents  as  strange  a  contrast 
as  can  well  be  imagined  to  all  correct  ideas,  not  only 
of  studious  academical  tranquillity,  but  even  of  respect- 
able conduct ;  yet,  in   refraining  from  the   nightly   ob- 

*  It  is  scarcely  necessary  lo  say,  that  these  rude  rhymes  are  not 
translated  from  any  idea  tlint  they  possess  poetical  merit,  hut 
merely  to  ^:  o\v  the  charncter  of  the  Eurschen  strains,  and  of  the 
academicians,  perhaps,  who  compose  and  sing  theiri. 


COMMERZ-HOUSES.  93 

servances,  they  would  think  themselves  guilty  of  a  less 
pardonable  dereliction  ol*  then-  academic  character,  and 
a  more  direct  treason  against  the  independence  of  Ger- 
many, than  if  they  subscribed  to  the  Austrian  Oi)ser- 
\er,  or  never  attended  for  a  single  hour  tiie  lectures 
for  which  they  paid.  Step  Into  the  pnbhc  room  of 
that  inn,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  market-place,  for 
it  is  the  most  respectable  in  the  town.  On  opening  the 
door,  you  must  use  your  ears,  not  your  eyes,  for  noth- 
ing is  yet  visible  except  a  dense  mass  of  smoke,  occu- 
pying space,  concealing  every  thing  in  it  and  beyond  it, 
illuminated  with  a  dusky  light,  you  know  not  how,  and 
sending  forth  from  its  bowels  all  the  varied  sounds  of 
Diirth  and  revelry.  As  the  eye  gradually  accustoms 
itself  to  the  atmosphere,  human  visages  are  seen  dim- 
ly dawning  through  the  lurid  cloud;  then  pewter  jugs 
begin  to  glimmer  faintly  in  their  neighbourhood  ;  and, 
as  the  snioke  from  the  phial  gradually  shaped  itself 
into  the  friendly  Asmodeus,  the  man  and  his  jug  slow- 
ly assume  a  defined  and  corporeal  form.  You  can  now 
totter  along  between  the  two  long  tables  v\  hich  have 
sprung  up,  as  if  by  enchantment ;  by  the  time  you  have 
reached  the  huge  stove  at  the  farther  end,  you  have 
before  you  the  paradise  of  German  Burschen,  destitute 
only  of  its  Hourls  :  every  man  v/ith  his  bonnet  en  his 
head,  a  pot  of  beer  in  his  hand,  a  pipe  or  segar  in  his 
mouth,  and  a  song  upon  his  lips,  never  doubting  but 
that  he  and  his  companions  are  training  themselves  to 
be  the  regenerators  of  Europe,  that  they  are  the  true 
representatives  of  the  manliness  and  indcpcnderice  of 
the  German  character,  and  the  only  models  of  a  free, 
generous,  and  high-minded  youth.  They  lay  their 
hands  upon  their  jugs,  and  vow  the  liberation  of  Ger- 
many ;  they  stop  a  second  pipe,  or  light  a  second  segar, 
and  swear  that  the  Holy  Alliance  is  an  unclean  tiling. 

The  songs  of  these  studious  revellers  often  bear  a 
particular  character.  They  are.  Indeed,  mostly  convi- 
vial, but  many  of  them  contain  a  peculiar  train  of  feel- 


94  JENA. 

jng,  springing  from  the  peculiar  modes  of  thinking  of 
the  Burschen,  hazy  aspirations  after  patriotism  and  li- 
berty, of  neither  of  which  have  they  any  idea,  except 
that  every  Bursche  is  bound  to  adore  them,  and  mys- 
tical allusions  to  some  unknown  chivalry  that  dwells  in 
a  fencing  bout,  or  in  the  cabalistical  ceremony,  with 
which  the  tournament  concludes,  of  running  the  wea- 
pon through  a  hat.  Out  of  an  university  town,  these 
effusions  would  be  utterly  insipid,  just  as  so  many  of  the 
native  Venetian  canzonette  lose  all  their  effect,  when 
sung  any  where  but  in  Venice,  or  by  any  other  than  a 
Venetian.  Thus,  their  innumerable  hymns  to  the  ra- 
pier, or  on  the  moral,  intellectual,  and  political  effects 
of  climbing  up  poles,  and  tossing  the  bar,  would  be  un- 
intelligible to  all  w^ho  do  not  know  their  way  of  think- 
ing, and  must  appear  ridiculous  to  every  one  who  can- 
not enter  Into  their  belief,  that  these  chivalrous  exer- 
cises constitute  the  essence  of  manly  honour  ;  but  they 
themselves  chaunt  these  tournament  songs  (Tourmer- 
lieder)  with  an  enthusiastic  solemnity  whicii,  to  a  third 
party,  is  irresistibly  ludicrous.  The  period  when  they 
took  arms  against  France  was  as  fertile  in  songs  as  in 
deeds  of  valour.  Many  of  the  former  are  exc^ellent  in 
their  way,  though  there  was  scarcely  a  professional 
poet  in  the  band,  except  young  Korncr.  These,  with 
the  more  deep  and  intense  strains  of  Arndt,  will  al- 
ways be  favourites,  because  they  were  the  productions 
of  times,  and  of  a  public  feeling,  unique  in  the  history 
of  Germany.  Where  no  reference  is  made  to  fencing: 
tournaments,  or  warlike  recollections,  there  is  never- 
theless the  distinct  impress  of  Burschen  feelings. 

The  following  may  be  taken  as  a  satisfactory  exam- 
ple of  the  ordinary  genus  of  university  minstrelsy.  It 
is,  by  way  of  eminence,  the  Hymn,  or  Burse  hen-Song, 
of  Jena  ;  it  contains  all  the  texts  which  furnish  mate- 
rials for  the  amplilications  of  college  rhymsters,  and 
shows  better  than  a  tedious  description  how  they  view 
the  world. 


STUDENT  SONGS.  95 

Pledge  round,  brothers  ;  Jona  for  ever  !  huzza  ! 
The  resolve  to  be  free  is  abroad  in  the  land  ; 
The  Philistine*  burns  to  be  joined  with  our  band, 

For  the  Burschen  are  free. 

Pledge  round,  then  ;  our  country  for  ever  !  huzza  ! 
While  you  stand  like  your  fathers  as  pure  and  as  true, 
Forget  not  the  debt  to  posterity  due, 

For  the  Burschen  are  free. 

Pledge  round  to  our  Prince,  then,  ye  Burschen  !  huzza '. 
He  swore  our  old  honours  and  rights  to  maintain, 
And  we  vow  him  our  love,  while  a  drop  's  in  a  vain, 

For  the  Burschen  are  free. 

Pledge  round  to  the  love  of  fair  woman  !  huzza! 
If  there  be  who  the  feeling  of  woman  offends, 
For  him  is  no  place  among  freemen  or  friends; 

But  the  Burschen  are  free. 

Pledge  round  to  the  stout  soul  of  man,  too  !  huzza! 
Love,  singing,  and  wine,  are  the  proofs  of  his  might, 
And  who  knows  not  all  three  is  a  pitiful  wight; 

But  the  Burschen  are  free. 

Pledge  round  to  the  free  word  of  freemen  !  huzza  ! 
Who  knows  what  the  truth  is,  yet  trembles  to  brave 
The  might  that  would  crush  it,  is  a  cowardly  slave  ; 

But  the  Burschen  are  free. 

Pledge  round,  then,  each  bold  deed  tor  ever !  huzza ! 
Who  tremblingi}'  ponders  how  daring  may  end. 
Will  crouch  like  a  minion,  when  power  bids  him  bend ; 

But  the  Burschen  are  free. 

Pledge  round,  then,  the  Burschen  for  ever  !  huzza  ! 
Till  the  world  goes  in  rags,  when  the  last  day  comes  o''er 

us, 
Let  each  Bursche  stand  faithful,  and  join  in  our  chorus, 

The  Burschen  are  free. 

If  they  ever  give  vent  in  song  to  the  democratic  and 
sanguinary  resolves  which  are  averred  to  render  them 
so  dangerous,  it  must  he  in  their  more  secret  conclaves: 
for,  in   tlie   strains  which  enhven  their   ordinary  pota- 

*  That  is,  the  people. 


96  JENA. 

tions,  there  is  nothiniO^  more  definite  than  in  the  above 
prosaic  elfusion.  There  are  many  vague  declamations 
about  freedom  and  country,  but  no  allusions  to  particu- 
lar persons,  particular  governments,  or  particular  plans. 
The  only  change  of  government  I  ever  knew  proposed 
in  their  cantilenes,  is  one  to  which  despotism  itself 
could  not  object. 

Let  times  to  come  come  as  they  may, 

And  empires  rise  and  fall ; 
Let  Fortune  rule  as  Fortune  will, 

And  wheel  upon  her  ball; 
High  upon  Bacchus'  lordly  brow 

Our  diadem  shall  shine  ; 
And  Joy,  we'll  crown  her  for  his  queen, 

Their  capital  the  Rhine. 

In  Heidelberg's  huge  tun  shall  sit 

The  Council  of  our  State, 
And  on  our  own  Johannisberg 

The  Senate  shall  debate. 
Amid  the  vines  of  Burgundy 

Our  Cabinet  shall  reign  ; 
Our  Lords  and  faithful  Commons  House 

Assemble  in  Champaign. 

Only  the   Cabinet   of  Constantinople   could   set  itself, 
with  any  good  grace,  against  such  a  reform. 

But,  worse  than  idly  as  no  small  portion  of  time  is 
spent  by  the  great  body  of  the  academic  youth  in  these 
nightly  debauches,  this  is  only  one,  and  by  no  means 
the  most  distinguishing  or  troublesome,  of  their  pecu- 
liarities ;  it  IS  the  unconquerable  spirit  of  clanship,  pre- 
valent among  them,  which  has  given  birth  to  their  vio- 
lence and  insubordination  ;  for  it  at  once  cherishes  the 
spirit  of  opposition  to  all  regular  discipline,  and  consti- 
tutes an  united  body  to  give  that  opposition  effect. 
The  house  of  Hanover  did  not  find  more  difficulty  in 
reducing  to  tranquillity  the  clans  of  the  Highlands  of 
Scotland,  than  the  Grand  Duke  of  Weimar  would  en- 
counter in  eradicating  the  Landsmannschaften  from 
among  the  four  hundred  students  of  Jena,  and  inducing 


LANDSMANNSCHAFTEN.  97 

them    to    conduct   themselves  like  orderlj,  well-bred 
young  men.     The  Landsmannschaften  themselves  are 
by  no  means  a  modern  invention,  though  it  is  believed, 
that    the  secret   organization  which   they   give  to  the 
students   all   over  Germany  has,  of  late   years,   been 
used  to  new  purposes.     The  name  is  entirely  descrip- 
tive of  the   thing,  a  Coiintrymanship,  an  association  of 
persons  from  the  same  country,  or  the  same  province  of 
a  country.     They  do  not  arise  from  the  constitution  of 
the   university,  nor  are  they  acknowledged  by  it  ;  on 
the  contrary,  they  are  proscribed  both  by  the  laws  of 
the    university    and   the   government    of   the    country. 
They  do  not  exist  for  any  academical  purpose,  for  the 
young   men    have    no    voice    in   any    thing   connected 
with  the  university  ;  to  be  a  member  of  one  is  an  aca- 
demical   misdemeanour,   yet    there    are   few    students 
who  do  not  belons:  to  one  or  another.     Thev  are  asso- 
ciations  of  students  belonging  to  the  same  province,  for 
the  purpose  of  enabling  each,  thus  backed  by  all,  to 
carry  through  his  own  rude  wiH,  let  it  be  what  it  may, 
and,   of  late   years,  it  is  averred,   to   propagate  wild 
political    reveries,  jf  not   to   foment    political    cabals. 
They  are  regularly  organized  ;  each  has  its  president, 
clerk,    and    councillors,  who   form  what   is  called  the 
Convent  of  the  Landsmannschaft.     This  budv  manaores 
its  funds,  and  has  the  direction  of  its  affairs,  if  it  have 
affairs.     It  likewise  enjoys   the   honour  of  fighting  all 
duels  pro  ^a/na,  for  so  they  are  named   when  the  in- 
terest or  honour  not  of  an  individual,  but  of  the  whole 
fraternity,  has  been  attacked.     The  assembled  presi- 
dents of  the  different  Landsmannschaften  in  a  univer- 
sity constitute   the  senior  convent.     This  supreme  tri- 
bunal does  not  interfere  in  the  private   affairs  of  the 
particular  bodies,  but  decides  in  all  matters  that  con- 
cern the  whole  mass  of  Burschen,  and  watches  over 
the  strict  observance  of   the   oreneral    academic  code 
which  they  have  enacted  for  themselves.     The  meet- 
ings of  both  tribunals  are  held  frequently  and  regular- 
13 


#a  JENA. 

Iv,  but  with  so  much  secrecy,  that  the  most  vigilant 
police  has  been  unable  to  reach  them.  They  have 
cost  many  a  professor  many  a  sleepless  night.  The 
governments  scold  the  senates,  as  if  they  trifled  with, 
or  even  connived  at  the  evil ;  the  senates  lose  all  pa- 
tience with  the  governments,  for  thinking  it  so  easy  a 
matter  to  discover  what  Burschen  are  resolved  to 
keep  concealed.  The  exertions  of  both  have  only 
sufficed  to  drive  the  Landsmannschaften  into  deeper 
concealment.  From  the  incessant  quarrels  and  up- 
roars, and  the  instantaneous  union  of  all  to  oppose  any 
measure  of  general  discipline  about  to  be  enforced, 
the  whole  senate  often  sees  plainly,  that  these  bodies 
are  in  activ^e  operation,  without  being  able  either  to 
ascertain  who  are  their  members,  or  to  pounce  upon 
their  secret  conclaves. 

Since  open  war  was  thus  declared  against  them  by 
the  government,  secrecy  has  become  indispensable  to 
their  existence,  and   the    Bursche  scruples  at  nothing 
by  which    this   secrecy   may    be   insured.     The    most 
melancholy  consequence  of  this  is,  that,  as  every  man 
is  bound   by  the  code  to  esteem   the    preservation  of 
the  Landsmannschaft  his  first  du.y,  every  principle  of 
honour  is  often  trampled  under  fc    t  to  maintain  it.     In 
some  universities   it   was    provided  by  the  code   that  a 
student,  Avhen  called  before  the  senate  to  be  examined 
about  a  suspected  Landsmannschaft,   ceased  to  be   a 
member,  and  thus  he  could  safely  say  that  he  belonged 
to  no  such  institution.     In  others,  it  was  provided,  that 
such  an  Inquiry  should  operate  as  an  ipso  facto  disso- 
lution of  the  body  Itself,  till  the    investigation   should 
be  over;   and  thus  every  member  could  safely  swear 
that  no  such  association  was  in  existence.     There  are 
cases  where  the  student,  at  his  admission  into  the  fra- 
ternity, gives  his  word  of  honour  to  do  every  thing  in 
his   power  to  spread  a  belief  that  no  such  association 
exists,  and,  if  he  shall  be  questioned   either   by   X\\^ 
senate  or  the  police,  stedfastly  to  deny  it.     Here  and 


LANDSMANNSCHAFTEN.  99 

there  the  professors  fell  on  the  expedient  of  gradually 
extirpating  them,  by  taking  from  every  new  student, 
at  his  matriculation,  a  solemn  promise  that  he  would 
not  join  any  of  these  bodies  ;  but  where  such  princi- 
ples are  abroad,  promises  are  useless,  for  deceit  is 
reckoned  a  duty.  The  more  moderate  convents  left  it 
to  the  conscience  of  the  party  himself  to  decide,  whe- 
ther he  was  bound  in  honour  by  such  a  promise  ;  but 
the  code  of  Leipzig,  as  it  has  been  printed,  boldly  de- 
clares every  promise  of  this  kind  void,  and  those  who 
have  exacted  it  punishable.  Moreover,  it  invests  the 
senior  convent,  in  general  terms,  with  the  power  of 
giving  any  man  a  dispensation  from  his  word  of  honour, 
if  it  shall  see  cause,  but  confines  this  privilege,  in  mo- 
ney matters,  to  cases  where  he  has  been  enormously 
cheated.  Thus  the  code  of  university  Landsmann- 
schaften,  while  it  prates  of  nothing  but  the  point  of 
honour,  and  directs  to  that  centre  all  its  fantastic  re- 
gulations, sets  out  with  a  violation  of  every  thing  ho- 
nourable. Such  are  the  tenets  of  men  who  chatter 
unceasingly  about  liberty  and  patriotism,  and  have  per- 
petually in  their  mouths  such  phrases  as,  "  the  Bur- 
schen  lead  a  free,  honourable,  and  independent  life  in 
the  cultivation  of  every  social  and  patriotic  virtue." 
Thus  do  moral  iniquities  become  virtues  in  their  eyes, 
if  they  forward  the  ends,  or  are  necessary  to  the  con- 
tinued existence  of  a  worthless  and  mischievous  associ- 
ation ;  and  who  can  tell  how  far  this  process  of  mea- 
suring honour  by  imagined  expediency  may  corrupt 
the  whole  moral  sense  ?  Is  it  wonderful  that  Sand, 
taught  to  consider  deceit,  prevarication,  or  breach  of 
promise  as  virtues,  when  useful  to  a. particular  cause, 
should  have  regarded  assassination  in  the  same  light, 
when  the  shedding  of  blood  was  to  consecrate  doc- 
trines which  he  looked  upon  as  holy  ? 

The  students  who  have  not  thought  proper  to  join 
any  of  these  associations  are  few  in  number,  and,  in 
point  of  estimation,  form  a  class  still  more  despised 


100  .    JENA. 

and  insulted  than  the  Philistines  themselves.     Every 
Bursche  thinks  it  dishonourable  to  have   comniunica- 
tion   with   them  ;    they   are   admitted  to  no  carousal ; 
they  are  debarred  from  all  balls   and   public  festivals 
by  which  the  jouth  contrive  to  make  themselves  noto- 
rious   and   ridiculous.     Such    privations  would   not   be 
severely  felt,   but   they  are  farther  exposed   to  every 
species  of  contempt   and   insult;   to  abuse   them  is  an 
acceptable  service  to  Germany  ;  in  the  class-room,  and 
on  the    street,   they    must    be    taught    that    they   are 
"cowardly  slaves,"   and  all  this,  because  they  will  not 
throw   themselves   into   the   fetters   of  a  self-created 
fraternity.     However  they  may  be  outraged,  thej  are 
entitled  neither  to  redress  nor  protection ;  should  any 
of  them  resent   the  maltreatnjent   heaped   upon  him^ 
he  brings  down  on  himself  the  vengeance  of  the  whole 
mass  of  initiated  ;  for,  to  draw  every  man  within  the- 
circle  is  a  comrrion  object  of  all  the  clans;  he  who  joins 
none  is  the  enemy  of  all.      Blows,  which  the  Burschen 
have    proscribed    among   themselves,   as  unworthy   of 
gentlemen,  are  allowed   against  the   "  Wild  Ones," — 
for  such  is  the  appellation  given  to  these  quiet  suffer- 
ers, from  the  caution  with  which  they  must  steal  along, 
trembling  at  the  presence  of  a  Comment  Bursche,  and 
exiled,  as  they   are,   from    the    refined   intercourse  of 
Commerz-houses  to  the   wilds   and  deserts  of  civilized 
society.     Others,  unable  to  hold  out  against  the  inso- 
lence and   contempt  of  the  young   men   among  whom 
they  are  compelled  to  live,  in  an  evil  hour  seek  refuge 
beneath  the  wing  of  a  Landsmannschaft.     These  are 
named  Renoncen,  or  Renouncers.     Having   renounced 
the  state  of  nature,   they  stand,  in  academical  civiliza- 
tion, a  degree  above  the  obstinate  "  Wild  Ones,"  but 
yet  they    do    not    acquire,    by    their  tardy  and  com- 
pelled submission,  a  full  claim  to  all  Burschen-rights. 
They  are  merely  entitled  to  the  protection  of  the  fra- 
ternity which  they   have  joined,  and  'every  member 
of  it  will  run  every  man  through  the  body  who  dares 


LANDSMANNSCIIAFTEN.  101 

to  insult  them,  in  word  or  deed,  otherwise  than  is  pre- 
scribed by  the  Burschen  code.  By  abject  submission  to 
the  will  of  their  imperious  protectors,  they  purchase 
the  right  of  being  abused  and  stabbed  only  according 
to  rule,  instead  of  being  kicked  and  knocked  down  con- 
trary to  all  rule. 

Associations  are  commonly  formed  for  purposes 
of  good  will  and  harmony  :  but  the  very  object  of  the 
Landsmannschaften  is  (juarrelling.  So  soon  as  a  num- 
ber of  these  fraternities  exist,  (hey  become  the  sworn 
foes  of  each  other,  except  when  a  common  danger 
drives  them  to  make  common  cause.  Each  aspires  at 
being  the  dominant  body  in  the  university,  and,  if  not 
the  most  respected,  at  least  the  most  feared  in  the 
town.  They  could  be  tolerated,  if  the  subject  of  emu- 
lation were,  which  should  produce  the  greatest  num- 
ber of  decent  scholars;  it  would  even  be  laudable  if 
they  contended  which  should  be  victor  at  cricket  or 
foot-ball.  But  unfortunately,  the  ambitious  contest  of 
German  Burschen  is  simply,  who  shall  be  most  suc- 
cessful at  renoivning^  that  is,  at  doing  sometliifig,  no  mat- 
ter what,  which  will  make  people  stare  at  them,  and 
talk  about  them;  or,  who  shall  produce  the  greatest 
number  oi  scandals^  that  is,  who  shall  fight  the  great- 
est number  of  duels,  or  cause  them  to  be  fought;  or, 
who  will  show  the  quickest  invention,  and  the  readiest 
hand,  in  resisting  all  attempts,  civil  or  academical,  to 
interfere  with  their  vagaries.  If  opportunities  of 
mortifying  each  other  do  not  occur,  they  must  be 
made  ;  the  merest  trifles  are  sufficient  to  give  a  pre- 
text for  serious  quarrels,  and  the  sword  is  immediately 
drawn  to  decide  them,  the  "  consummation  devoutly  to 
be  wished,"  which  is  at  bottom  the  grand  object  of 
the  whole.  At  Jena  the  custom  has  been  allowed  to 
grow  up  of  permitting  the  students  to  give  balls;  the 
Senate  has  oiily  tried  to  make  them  decent,  by  confin- 
ing them  to  the  Rose,  an  inn  belonging  to  the  Univer- 
sity,  and   therefore    tinder   its   controul.     If   they  be 


102  JENA. 

given  anywhere  else,  the  Burschen  cannot  expect  the 
company  of  the  fashionable  ladies  of  Jena,  the  wives 
and  daughters  of  the  professors.  Now,  a  Landsinann- 
schaft  which  gives  a  ball.  Renowns  su|)erbly ;  it  makes 
itself  distinguished,  and  it  must,  therefore,  be  mortifi- 
ed. The  other  Burschen  station  themselves  at  the 
door,  or  below  the  windows;  they  hoot,  yell,  sing, 
whistle,  and  make  all  sorts  of  infernal  noises,  occasion- 
ally completing  the  joke  by  breaking  the  windows. 
This  necessarily  brings  up  an  abundant  crop  of  scan- 
dals ;  and  it  can  easily  happen,  that  as  much  blood  is 
shed  next  morning,  as  there  w^as  negus  drunk  the  night 
before.  A  Landsmannschaft  had  incautiously  announc- 
ed a  ball  before  engaging  the  musicians;  the  others 
immediately  engaged  the  only  band  of  which  Jena 
could  boast  for  a  concert  on  the  same  evening.  The 
dancers  would  have  been  under  the  necessity  of  either 
sacrificing  their  fete,  or  bringing  over  an  orchestra 
from  Weimar;  but  the  quarrel  was  prevented  from 
coming  to  extremes  by  the  non-dancers  giving  up  their 
right  over  the  fiddlers,  on  condition  that  the  ball 
should  be  considered  as  given  by  the  whole  body  of 
Burschen,  not  by  any  particular  fraternity.  A  number 
of  students  took  it  into  their  heads  to  erect  them- 
selves into  an  independent  duchy,  which  they  named 
after  a  village  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Jena,  whither 
they  regularly  repaired  to  drink  beer.  He  who  could 
drink  most  was  elected  Duke,  and  the  great  officers  of 
his  court  were  appointed  in  the  same  way,  according 
to  their  capacity  for  liquor.  To  complete  the  farce, 
they  paraded  the  town.  Though  all  this  might  be 
extremely  good  for  sots  and  children,  in  students  it 
was  exquisitely  ridiculous;  but  it  attracted  notice;  it 
was  a  piece  of  successful  renowning,  and  their  brethren 
could  not  tamely  submit  to  be  thrown  into  the  shade. 
A  number  of  others  forthwith  erected  themselves  into 
a  free  town  of  the  empire;  took  their  name  from 
another  neighbouring  village;  ellcted  their  Burgomas- 


LANDSMANNSCHAFTEN.  ]  05 

ter,  Syndic,  and  Councillors,  and,  habited  in  the  ofTiclal 
garb  of  Hamburgh  or  Fiankfort,  made  their  jjrocesslon 
on  foot,  to  mark,  their  contempt  of  ducal  pomp,  and. 
point  themselves  out  as  industrious  frugal  citizens. 
The  two  parties  now  came  in  contact  with  each  other; 
and  it  was  daily  expected,  that  their  reci[;rocal  carica- 
tures, like  angry  negotiations,  would  prove  the  forerun- 
ners of  an  open  war  between  his  Serene  Highness  and 
the  Free  Town. 

The  individual  Bursche,  in  his  academical  charac- 
ter, is  animated  by  the  sSmc  paltry,  arrogant,  quarrel- 
some, domineering  disposition.  When  fairly  imbued 
Avith  the  spiiit  of  his  sect,  no  rank  can  command  res- 
pect from  him,  for  he  knows  no  superior  to  himself 
and  his  comrades.  A  few  years  ago,  the  Empress  of 
Russia,  when  she  was  at  Weimar,  visited  the  Univer- 
sity Museum  of  Jena.  Among  the  students  who  had 
assembled  to  see  her,  one  was  observed  to  keep  his 
bonnet  on  his  head,  and  his  pipe  in  his  mouth,  as  her 
Imperial  Majesty  passed.  The  Prorector  called  the 
young  man  before  him,  and  remonstrated  with  him  on 
his  rudeness.  The  defence  was  in  tlie  genuine  spirit 
of  Burschenism  :  ''I  am  a  free  man;  what  is  an  Em- 
press tome?"  Full  of  lofty  unintelligible  notions  of 
his  own  importance  and  high  vocation,  misled  by  ludi- 
crously erroneous  ideas  of  honour,  and  hurried  on  by 
the  example  of  all  around  him,  the  true  Bursche  swag- 
gers and  renowns,  choleric,  raw,  and  overbearing.  He 
measures  his  own  honour,  because  his  companions 
measure  it,  by  the  number  of  scandals  he  has  fouijht, 
but  neither  he  nor  they  ever  waste  a  thought  on  what 
they  have  been  fought  for.  To  have  fought  unsuccess- 
fully is  bad  ;  but,  if  he  wishes  to  become  a  respected 
and  influential  personage,  not  to  have  fought  at  all  is  in- 
finitely worse.  He,  therefore,  docs  not  fight  to  lesent 
insolence,  but  he  insults,  or  takes  oiTence,  tliat  he  mav 
have  a  pretext  for  fi^htmg.  The  lecture-rooms  are 
but  secondary  to  the^^icing-school :  that  is  his  temple, 


104  JENA. 

the  rapier  is  his  god,  and  the  Comment  is   the  gospel 
by  which  he  swears. 

This  Comment,  as  it  is  called,  is  the  Burschen  Pan- 
dects, the  general  code  to  which    all   the   Landsmann- 
scliaften  are   subject.     However  numerous  the  latter 
may  be  in  a  university,  there  is  but  one  comment,  and 
this  venerable  body  of  law   descends  from  generation 
to  generation,   in    the    special    keeping   of  the  senior 
convent.     It  is  the  holy  volume,  whose  minutest  regu- 
lations must  neither  be  questioned  nor  slighted  ;  what 
it  allows  cannot  be  wrong,  what  it  prohibits  cannot  be 
riofht.     "  He   has  no  comment   in   him,"  used  to  be  a 
proverbiial  expression  for  a  stupid  fellow.     It  regulates 
the  mode  of  election  of  the  superior  officers,  fixes  the 
relation   of  "  Wild  Ones"   and  "  Renouncers"  to  the 
true  Burschen,  and  of  the  Burschen  to  each  bther;  it 
provides   punishments  for   various  offences,  and  com- 
monly denounces  excommunication  against  thieves  and 
cheaters  at  play,  especially  if  the  cheating  be  of  any 
very  gross  kind.     But  the  point  of  honour  is    its  soul. 
The  comment  is,  is  reality,  a  code,  arranging  the  man- 
ner in  which  Burschen  shall   quarrel  with  each  other, 
and  how  the  quarrel,  once  begun,  shall  be  terminated. 
It  fixes,  with  the  most  pedantic  solicitude,  a  graduated 
scale  of  offensive    words,  and   the  style  and  degree  of 
satisfaction   that    may  be    demanded   for   each.     The 
scale  rises,  or  is   supposed  to  rise,  in  enormity,  till  it 
reaches  the  atrocious  expression,  Dumraer   Junge,  (stu- 
pid youth,)  which  contains  within  itself  every  possible 
idea  of  insult,  and  can  be  atoned  for  only   with  blood. 
The  particular  dei^recs  of  the  scale  may  vary  in  diffe- 
rent universities;   but  the  principle  of  its   construction 
is  the  same  in  all,  aiid  in  all  "  stupid  youth"  is  the  boil- 
ing point.     If  you  are  assailed  with  any  epithet  which 
stands  below  stupid  youth  in   the    scale   of  contumely, 
you  are  not  bound  immediately  to  challenge  ;  you  may 
"set  yourself  in  advantage^' — that   is,  you  may  retort 
on  the  offender  with   an  epilhe4  which  stands  higher 


THE  COMMENT.  105 

than  the  one  he  has  applied  to  you.  Then  your  op- 
ponent may  retort,  if  you  have  left  him  room,  in  the 
same  way,  by  rising  a  degree  above  you  ;  and  tlms  the 
courteous  terms  of  the  comment  may^  be  bandied  be- 
tween you,  till  one  or  the  other  fmds  only  the  highest 
step  of  the  ladder  unoccupied,  and  is  compelled  to  pro- 
nounce the  "stupid  youth,"  to  which  there  is  no  reply 
but  a  challenge.  I  do  not  say  that  this  is  the  ordina- 
ry practice;  in  general,  it  comes  to  a  challenge  at 
once  ;  but  such  is  the  theory  of  the  Comment.  Who- 
ever submits  to  any  of  ttritee  epithets,  without  either 
setting  himself  in  advantage,  or  giving  a  challenge,  is 
forthwith  punished  by  the  convent  with  Verschiss,  or 
the  lesser  excommunication ;  for  there  is  a  temporary 
and  a  perpetual  Verschiss,  something  like  the  lesser 
and  gre^r  excommunication  in  ecclesiastical  disci- 
pline. He  may  recover  his  rights  and  his  honour,  by 
fighting,  within  a  given  time,  with  one  member  of 
each  of  the  existing  Landsmannschaften ;  but  if  he  al- 
lows the  fixed  time  to  pass  without  doing  so,  the  sen- 
tence becomes  irrevocable  :  no  human  power  can  re- 
store him  to  his  honours  and  his  rights  ;  he  is  declared 
infamous  for  ever;  the  same  punishment  is  denounced 
against  all  who  hold  intercourse  WMth  him  ;  every  mode 
of  insult,  real  or  verbal,  is  permitted  and  laudable 
against  him  ;  he  is  put  to  the  ban  of  this  academical 
empire,  and  stands  alone  among  his  companions,  the 
butt  of  unceasing  scorn  and  contumely. 

In  the  conduct  of  the  duel  itself,  the  comment  de- 
scends to  the  minutest  particulars.  The  dress,  the 
weapons,  the  distance,  the  value  of  different  kinds  of 
thrusts,  the  length  to  which  the  arm  shall  be  bare,  and 
a  thousand  other  minutiae,  are  all  fixed,  and  have,  at 
least,  the  merit  of  preventing  every  unfair  advantage. 
In  some  universities  the  sabre,  in  others  the  rapier,  is 
the  academical  weapon  ;  pistols  nowhere.  The  wea- 
pon used  at  Jena  is  what  tj^y  call  a  Schlager.  It  is  a 
straight  blade,  aboutBkre?  feet  and  a  half  long,  and 
14  ^^ 


106  JENA. 


three-cornered  like  a  bayonet.  The  hand  is  protected 
by  a  circular  plate  of  tin,  eight  or  ten  inches  in  diame- 
ter, which  some  burlesque  poets,  who  have  had  the 
audacity  to  laugh  at  Burschenism,  have  profaned  with 
the  appellation  of  "  The  Soup  Plate  of  Honour."  The 
handle  can  be  separated  from  the  blade,  and  the  soup 
plate  from  both, — all  this  for  purposes  of  concealment. 
The  handle  is  put  in  the  pocket,  the  plate  is  buttoned 
under  the  coat,  the  blade  is  sheathed  in  a  walking-stick, 
and  thus  the  parties  proceed  unsuspected  to  the  place 
of  combat,  as  if  they  wer%  going  out  for  a  morning 
stroll.  The  tapering  triangular  blade  necessarily  be- 
comes roundish  towards  the  point ;  therefore,  no  thrust 
counts,  unless  it  be  so  deep  that  the  orifice  of  the  wound 
is  three-cornered  ;  for,  as  the  Comment  has  it,  "  no  af- 
fair is  to  be  decided  in  a  trifling  and  childish  way  mere- 
ly fro formaP  Besides  the  seconds,  an  umpire  and  a 
surgeon  must  be  present ;  but  the  last  is  always  a  me- 
dical student,  that  he  may  be  under  the  comment-obli- 
gation to  secrecy.  All  parties  present  are  bound  not 
to  reveal  what  passes,  without  distinction  of  consequen- 
ces, if  it  has  been  fairly  done  ;  the  same  promise  is  ex- 
acted from  those  who  may  come  accidentally  to  know 
any  thing  of  the  matter  ;  to  give  information  or  evi- 
dence against  a  Bursche,  in  regard  to  any  thing  not 
contrary  to  the  Comment,  is  an  inexpiable  offence. 
Thus  life  may  easily  be  lost  without  the  possibility  of 
discovery  ;  for  authority  is  deprived,  as  far  as  possible, 
of  every  means  by  which  it  might  get  at  the  truth.  It 
is  perfectly  true,  that  mortal  combats  are  not  frequent, 
partly  from  the  average  equality  of  skill,  every  man 
being  in  the  daily  practice  of  his  weapon,  partly,  be- 
cause there  is  often  no  small  portion  of  gasconade  in  the 
warlike  propensities  of  these  young  persons;  yet  nei- 
ther are  they  so  rare  as  many  people  imagine.  It  does 
not  often  happen,  indeed,  that  either  of  the  parties  is 
killed  on  the  spot,  but  the  wounds  often  superinduce 
other  mortal   ailments,  aM  s^j^more  frequently,  laj 


#' 


LANDSMANNSCHAFTEN.  107 

the  foundation  of  diseases  which  cling  to  the  body 
through  hfe.  A  professor,  wlio  perhaps  has  had  bet- 
ter opportunities  of  learning  the  working  of  the  system 
than  any  of  his  colleagues,  assured  me,  that  instances 
are  by  no  means  rare,  of  young  men  carrying  home 
consumption  with  them,  in  consequence  of  slight  inju- 
ries received  in  the  lungs.  On  the  occasion  of  the  last 
fatal  duel  at  Jena,  the  government  of  Weimar  gave 
this  gentleman  a  commission  to  inquire  into  the  aifair. 
He  declined  it,  unless  he  were  authorized,  at  the  same 
time,  to  act  against  the  Eandsmannschaften  generally. 
On  receiving  this  power,  he  seized  a  number  of  their 
Schldger^  and  sent  to  jail  a  score  of  those  whom  he  be- 
lieved to  be  most  active  in  the  confraternities.  But 
the  impression  of  this  unwonted  rigour  was  only  tem- 
porary ;  they  became  more  secret,  but  not  at  all  less 
active. 

Y^t,  let  it  only  become  necessary  to  oppose  the  in- 
roads of  discipline,  to  punish  the  townsmen,  or  to  do 
some  extravagant  thing  that  will  astound  the  govern- 
ments, and  these  bodies,  which  thus  live  at  daggers- 
drawing  with  each  other,  are  inseparable.  They  take 
their  measures  with  a  secrecy  which  no  vigilance  has 
hitherto  been  able  to  penetrate,  and  an  unanimity  which 
has  scarcely  been  tamted  by  a  single  treason.  The 
mere  townsmen  are  objects  of  supreme  contempt  to 
the  Bursche  ;  for,  from  the  moment  he  enters  the  uni- 
versity, he  looks  on  himself  as  belonging  to  a  class  set 
apart  for  some  peculiarly  high  vocation,  and  vested 
with  n6  less  a  privilege  than  that  of  acknowledging  no 
law  but  their  own  will.  The  citizens  he  denominates 
Philistines,  and  considers  them  to  exist  only  to  fear,  ho- 
nour, and  obey  the  chosen  people  of  whom  he  himself 
is  one.  The  greater  part  of  the  inhabitants  are  de- 
pendent, in  some  professional  shape  or  other,  on  those 
who  attend  the  university,  and  must  have  the  fear  of 
the  Burschen  daily  ^^nigjjftly  before  their  eyes.  To 
murmur  at  the  capflj^  oT  the  Academic  Israel,   tq 


108  JENA. 

laugh  at  their  mumeries,  or  seriously  resist  and  resent 
their  arrogance,  would  only  expose  the  unhappy  Phi- 
listine to  the  certainty  of  having  his  head  and  his  win- 
dows broken  together;  for  he  has  no  rights,  as  against 
a  Bursche,  not  even  that  of  giving  a  challenge,  unless 
he  be  a  nobleman  or  a  military  officer.  When  the 
Burschen  are  in  earnest,  no  civil  police  is  of  any  earth- 
ly use  ;  they  would  as  little  hesitate  to  attack  it  as  they 
would  fail  of  putting  it  to  flight.  I  saw  Leipsig  thrown 
into  confusion,  one  night,  by  the  students  attempting  to 
make  themselves  masters  of  the  person  of  a  soldier 
who,  they  believed,  had  insulted  one  of  their  brethren 
in  a  quarrel  on  the  street  about  some  worthless  woman. 
Although  it  was  late,  the  offended  party  had  been  able 
speedily  to  collect  a  respectable  number  of  academic 
youth,  to  attack  the  guard-house;  for  a  well  trained 
Bursche  knows  the  commerz-houses,  where  his  com- 
rades nightly  congregate  to  drink,  smoke,  and  sing,  as 
certainly  as  a  well  trained  police  officer  knows  the 
haunts  of  thieves  and  pick-pockets. 

The  most  imminent  danger  which  the  Landsmanns- 
chaften  have  hitherto  encountered,  arose  from  the  stu- 
dents themselves.  The  academical  youth  seemed  to 
have  brought  back  from  the  campaigns  of  1813  and 
1814,  a  spirit  of  more  manly  union  ;  and,  perhaps,  an 
earnest  contest  against  French  bayonets  had  taught 
them  to  look  with  less  prejudiced  eyes  on  the  paltri- 
ness of  their  own  ridiculous  squabbles.  A  few  leading 
heads  at  Jena  proposed  that  the  Landsmannschaften 
should  be  abolished,  and  the  Comment  abrogat^^  ;  not, 
however,  with  the  view  of  crushing  all  associations,  but 
that  the  whole  body  of  the  students  might  be  united 
in  one  general  brotherhood,  underanev  and  more  rea- 
sonable constitution.  The  Landsmannschaften  did  not 
yield  without  a  struggle,  but  the  Burschenschaft  (for  so 
they  baptized  the  new  association,  because  it  compre- 
hended   all   Burschen)   fin^y    triumphed  ;  renowning 


i^y    trill 


dwindled  away,  and  venerfble^Bt  began  to  settle  on 


THE  BURSCHENSCHAFT.  109 

the  Comment.  It  is  agreed  on  all  hands,  that,  during 
the  existence  of  this  body,  the  manners  of  the  univer- 
sity improved.  In  the  investigation  afterwards  insti- 
tuted by  the  Diet,  the  Prufes>ors  bore  witriess,  that 
greater  tranquililly,  order,  and  respect  for  the  laws,  had 
never  been  manifested  in  Jena,  than  under  the  Burs- 
chenschaft.  There  was  nothmg  compulsory  in  it  ;  no 
constraint  was  used,  no  insult  or  contempt  was  permit- 
ted towards  those  who  did  not  cfioose  to  join  it.  So 
far  was  it  already  advaiiced  in  civilization,  in  compari- 
son with  the  former  brotherhoods,  that  besides  p-rohi- 
biting  the  introduction  of  dogs  into  its  solemn  assem- 
blies, it  would  allow  no  man  either  to  smoke,  or  to  re- 
main covered  in  them.  It  was  even  provided,  that  the 
orator  should  turn  his  face  to  the  Burschen  while  he 
was  addressing  thenj,  and  take  his  seat  again  when  he 
had  finished.*  This  spirit  of  uniformity,  going  out  from 
Jena,  shook  the  old  institutions  in  other  universities  ; 
till  at  length,  when  the  students  had  assembled  from 
every  corner  of  Germany,  in  I  til  7,  to  celebrate  on  the 
Wart  burg  the  anniversary  of  the  Reformation,  and  the 
battle  of  Leipzig,  the  destruction  of  the  Laiidsmann- 
schaften  was  unanimously  voted,  and  the  all  com[>re- 
hendlng  Burschenschaft  was  to  take  their  place.  But 
this  proved  its  ruin.  It  had  been  resolved,  not  merely 
to  melt  into  one  organized  association  the  whole  body 
of  students  in  their  respective  universities,  but  to  form 
a  supreme  council  of  delegates  from  them  all,  to  direct 
and  give  unity  to  the  whole.  The  fears  which  ihego- 
vernmerfls  had  long  entertained,  that  political  objects 
were  concealed  beneath  the  Burschen>chalt,  now  be- 
came certainty.  The  organization  of  the  body,  and  the 
regular  contributions  by  which  funds  were  to  be  crea- 
ted ;  the  resolution  to  wear   the  sword    and  plume  as 

*  Seriously,  these  were  all  reg-nlalions  of  the  Bnrschenschaft  of 
Jena.  We  may  j'ldore  from  them  pf  the  decorum  which  reigns  in 
a  Landsmanobchaft  meeting'/j^ 


110  JENA. 

the  proper  ornaments  of  a  chivalrous  student,  and  to 
adopt  a  sort  of  uniform  in  the  singular  dress  which  is 
still  so  common  among  them,  were  all  regarded,  if  not 
as  indications  of  dangerous  designs,  at  least  as  instru- 
ments which  could  easily  be  used  for  dangerous 
purposes.  The  very  language  in  which  they  announc- 
ed their  objects,  so  far  as  any  distinct  idea  could  be 
drawn  from  its  mystical  verbosity,  covered  them  with 
political  suspicion."^  The  words  country,  freedom, 
and  independence,  were  perpetually  in  their  mouths  : 
and  people  naturally  asked,  how  is  this  new  Germanic 
Academic  Diet  to  benefit  any  one  of  the  three?  What 
means  this  regular  array  of  deputies  and  committees 
among  persons  who  have  no  duty  but  that  of  prosecu- 
ting their  studies?  To  what  end  this  universal  Burs- 
chen  Tribunal,  which  is  to  extend  its  decrees  from  Kiel 
to  Tiibingen,  and  direct  the  movements  of  a  combined 
body  from  the  shores  of  the  Baltic  to  the  foot  of  the 
Alps  ?  These  questions  were  in  every  body's  mouth ; 
and  it    is   unjust  to  say  that  they   were  merely  politic 

*  I  can  only  assure  the  reader,  that  the  following  declaration  in 
the  constitution  of  the  Universal  Burschenschaft  is  as  accurately 
translated  as  1  myself  could  understand  it.  "  The  Universal  Ger- 
man Burschenschaft  comes  into  life,  by  presenting- an  ever-improv- 
ing picture  of  its  countrymen  blossoming  into  freedom  and  unity ; 
by  maintaining  a  popular  Burschen-life,  in  the  cultivation  of  every 
corportal  and  intellectual  power;  by  preparing  its  members  for  a 
popular  life,  in  a  free,  equal,  and  well-ordered  community,  so  that 
every  one  may  rise  to  such  a  degree  of  self-consciousness,  as  to  re- 
present, in  his  pure  personality,  the  brightness  of  the  excellency 
of  a  German  popular  lite."  To  avoid  the  charge  of  wilful  misre- 
presentation, I  subjoin  the  origmal.  "  Die  allgemeine  Deutsche 
Burschenschaft  tritt  nun  ins  Leben  dadurch,  dass  Sic  sich,  je  lan- 
ger  je  mehr,  darstollt  als  ein  Bild  ihres  m  Freyheit  und  Einheit 
erblijhendes  Volkes,  dass  Sie  ein  volksthiimhches  Burschenleben.  in 
der  Ausbildung  einer  jeden  leihlichen  und  geistigen  Kraft  erhalt, 
und  im  freyen,  gl<=!icijen,  und  geordneten  Gemeinwesen,  ihre  Glie- 
der  vorbereitet  zum  Volksleben,  so  dass  jedes  derselben  zu  einer 
solchen  Stufe  des  Selb&tbewusstf^eyns  erhoben  werde,  dass  es  in 
seiner  reinen  Eigenthiimhchkeit  den  glanz  der  Herrlichkeit  des, 
Deutschen  Volksleben  darstellt."      St 


ACADEMICAL  LIBERTY.  Ill 

alarms  sounded  by  the  minions  of  suspicious  and  oppres- 
sive governments.  He  must  be  a  credulous  man  who 
can  beheve,  that  from  eight  to  ten  thousand  students, 
animated  by  the  pohtical  ardour  which,  of  late  years, 
has  pervaded  all  the  universities  of  Germany,  could  be 
thus  organized,  without  becoming  troublesome  to  the 
public  tranquillity  ;  and  he  must  be  a  very  imprudent 
man,  who  could  wish  to  see  the  work  of  political  rege- 
neration, even  where  it  is  needed,  placed  in  such  hands. 
Members  of  the  university  of  Jena  itself,  who  are  no 
lovers  of  despotism,  do  not  conceal  their  conviction, 
that,  although  the  founders  of  the  Burschenschaft  were 
sincere  in  their  desires  to  abolish  the  old  murderous 
distinctions,  yet  they  laboured  after  this  union,  only 
with  the  view  of  using  it  as  a  political  instrument.  The 
governments  denounced  the  new  associations  ;  in  Jena, 
they  had  first  breathed,  and  in  Jena  they  first  expired. 
The  Burschenschaft  obeyed  the  order  of  the  Grand 
Duke  for  its  abolition.  The  Landsmannschaften  im- 
mediately came  forth  from  their  graves;  the  Com- 
ment once  more  became  the  rule  of  faith  and  life  ;  re- 
nowning  and  scandalizing  reassumed  their  ancient  ho- 
nours ;  and  as  formerly,  the  Burschen  still  quarrel  and 
fight,  and  swear  loudly  to  make  good  their  "  academ- 
ical liberty." 

It  is  amusing  to  listen  to  the  pompousness  with  which 
these  young  men  speak  of  this  Akademische  Freylieit^ 
when  it  is  known  that  it  means  precisely  nothing.  To 
judge  from  the  lofty  periods  in  which  they  declaim 
about  the  blessings  it  has  showered  on  the  country,  and 
the  sacred  obligations  by  which  they  are  bound  to 
maintain  it,  we  would  conclude  tliat  it  invests  them 
with  no  ordinary  franchises  ;  while,  in  truth,  it  gives 
them  nothing  that  any  other  man  would  wish  to  have 
To  be  dressed,  and  to  look  like  no  other  person;  to 
let  his  beard  grow,  where  every  goodChristianshaves; 
to  let  his  tangled  locks  crawl  down  upon  his  shoulders, 
where  every  well-bred  ^man  wears  his  hair  short ;  to 
clatter  along  the  streets  in  monstrous  jack-boots,  loaded 


112  JENA. 

with  spurs,  which,  from  their  weight  and  size,  have 
acquired  the  descriptive  appellation  of  pound-spurs  ;  to 
rub  the  elbow  of  his  coat  against  the  wall  (ill  he  has 
made  a  hole  in  it,"*^  where  ordinary  people  think  it 
more  respectable  to  wear  a  coat  without  holes  ;  to  stroll 
through  the  streets  singing,  when  all  decent  citizens  are 
in  bed;  to  join  his  pot  companions  nightly  in  the  ale- 
house, and  besot  himself  with  beer  and  tobacco;  these, 
and  things  like  these,  are  the  ingredients  in  the  boast- 
ed academical  freedom  of  a  German  student.  In  every 
thing  connected  with  the  university,  he  has  neither 
voice  nor  influence  ;  in  this  respect,  a  boy  of  the  Greek 
or  Latin  class  at  Glasgow,  when  he  gives  his  vole  for 
the  Rector  Magnificus,  is  entitled  to  look  down  with 
contempt  on  the  brawling  braggars  of  Gottingen  or 
Jena.  Those  modes  of  liberty  the  Bursche  enjoys  in 
common  with  every  silly  or  clownish  fellow  in  the 
country  ;  for  they  consist  merely  in  being  singular,  ri- 
diculous, and  ill-bred,  where  other  people,  who  have 
the  same  n^ht,  choose  to  act  otherwise.  The  Lands- 
mannschaften  themselves  are  tyrannical  in  their  very 
essence.  So  far  from  being  his  own  master,  the  Burs- 
che is  chained  in  word  and  deed;  he  is  tied  down  by 
the  strict  forms  of  a  fantastic  code  which  he  did  not 
frame,  wliich  he  cannot  altr  r,  to  which  he  has  not  even 
voluntarily  submitted  himself,  and  from  which  its  pro- 
visions deny  him  the  power  of  withdrawing^.  Dread 
of  the  contumely  that  is  heaped  on  a  "  Wild  One," 
or  of  the  still  more  lamentable  slavery  which  awaits  a 
"  Renouticer,''  forces  him  into  the  fraternity  ;  and, 
once  within  the  toils,  he  is  not  allowed  to  break  loose, 
however  galling  they  may  be  to  his  feelings,  or  revolt- 
ing to  his  judgment.  Yet  amid  the  very  rattling  of 
their  chains,  these  men  have  the  impudence  to  prate 
about  liberty  as  their  distinguishing  privilege. 

*  This  actually   occurred  in   Jena ;  it  was  Renowning  ;  it  was 
something  to  be  stared  at. 


ACADEMICAL  LIBERTY.  lis 

It  is  itself,  however,  no  slight  peculiarity,  that  all 
these  peculiarities  do  not  last  longer  than  three  years. 
When  the  student  has  finished  his  curriculum^  and 
leaves  the  university,  he  is  himself  numbered  among 
the  Philistines  ;  the  prejudices,  the  fooleries,  and  hot- 
headed forwardness  of  the  Bursche  depart  from  him, 
as  if  he  were  waking  from  a  dream  ;  he  returns  to  the 
ordinary  modes  of  thinking  and  acting  in  the  world  ; 
he  probably  never  wields  a  rapier  again,  or  quarrels 
with  a  mortal,  till  his  dying  day  ;  he  falls  into  his  own 
place  in  the  bustling  competition  of  society,  and  leads 
a  peaceful  industrious  life,  as  his  fathers  did  before 
him.  His  political  chimeras,  too,  like  all  the  rest  of 
his  oddities,  are  much  less  connected  with  principle 
than  his  turbulence  would  seem  to  imply;  they  are 
modes  of  speech,  which,  like  the  shapeless  coats,  and 
daily  fencing  matches,  it  has  become  the  fashion  of  the 
place  to  adopt,  rather  than  any  steady  feeling  or  solid 
conviction.  The  Burschen  peculiarities  are  taken  up 
because  they  belong  to  the  sort  of  life  to  which  the 
person  is,  for  a  time,  consigned ;  but  they  do  not  ad- 
here to  the  man,  or  become  abiding  parts  of  his  cha- 
racter ;  once  beyond  the  walls  of  the  town,  and  they 
fall  from  him  with  the  long  hair.  Were  it  otherwise, 
the  consequences  would  already  have  been  visible. 
Did  these  young  men  carry  out  into  the  world  the  same 
vague  and  heated  ideas,  and  the  same  dangerous  rea- 
diness to  act  upon  them,  which  are  reckoned  part  of 
their  duties  at  college,  it  might  furnish  good  grounds 
for  the  political  precautions  of  alarmed  governments, 
but  it  would  likewise  render  them  unavailing;  for  the 
great  mass  of  the  people  would  speedily  be  leavened. 
These  are  the  very  men,  who,  in  many  cases,  form  the 
army,  who  instruct  the  people,  who  occupy  all  the 
lower,  and  not  a  few  of  the  higher  departments  in  the 
provincial  governments.  There  does  not  seem  to  be 
much  more  reason  to  fear  that  a  swaggering  and  unru- 
ly German  Bursche  will  become  a  quarrelsome  and  rio- 

j      15 


114  JENA. 

tons  German  citizen,  than  there  would  be  to  appre- 
hend that  a  boy  of  Eton  would  grow  up  to  be  a  radical 
leader  in  ParHament,  because  at  school  he  had  borne 
a  share  In  a  barring  out* 

The  decay  of  discipline  which  disfipfures  most  of  the 
universities,  and  the  manifold  forms  of  licentiousness  and 
insubordination  that  have  necessarily  arisen  from  it,  are 
intimately  connected  with  the  jurisdiction  of  the  univer- 
sity. The  senate  possessed  exclusive  jurisdiction  in  civil 
causes,  as  well  as  in  criminal  prosecutions  ;  it  wielded 
likewise  all  the  powers  of  police  over  this  portion  of 
the  community.  In  capital  offences,  if  any  such  occurred, 
the  criminal  was  generally  turned  over  to  the  regular 
authorities;  but,  in  all  other  cases,  he  was  amenable 
only  to  the  Prorector  and  Senate  of  his  university.  The 
modes  of  punishment  were  fines,  expulsion,  or  impri- 
sonment;  for  every  German  university  has  a  gaol  at- 
tached to  it,  though  the  durance  is  not  very  severe  in 
itself,  and,  in  the  eyes  of  the  Burschen,  is  attended  with 
no  disgrace.  They  do  not  think  the  less  of  a  man  be- 
cause he  has  been  sent  to  the  college  prison  for  some 
act  of  insubordination ;  it  raises  his  character  as  a 
proved,  tried  Bursche ;  it  tells  for  him  like  a  feat  of 
Renowning ;  it  adds  as  much  to  his  academic  glory  as 
if  he  had  "  tweaked  a  Philistine."  He  moves  to  his  dun- 
geon "  with  military  glee,"  perfectly  aware,  that,  by  a 
little  inconvenience,  he  is  purchasing  much  influence 
and  respectability  among  his  companions. 

It  is  long  since  doubts  began  to  be  entertained  of 
the  efficiency  of  this  exclusive  jurisdiction  vested  in  the 
professors.  Tliese  doubts  originated  in  the  laxity  with 
which  the  jurisdiction  has  been  exercised,  and  this  ru- 
inous laxity  is  inherent  in  the  system.  Notwithstand- 
ing all  that  has  been  written  and  said  in  its  defence,  it 
must  be  manifest  to  every  one  who  knows  the  German 
universities,  that,  in  point  of  fact,  it  has  done  mischief, 
and  may  be  ranked  among  the  principal  causes  of  the 
decay  of  discipline.     Where  students  live  in  the  man- 


ACADEMICAL  JURISDICTION.  115 

ner  described,  and  the  maintenance  of  the  public  peace, 
as  well  as  of  academical  good  order,  is  entrusted  to 
the  university  itself,  the  duties  of  the  Prorector  and 
Senate  are  at  once  laborious  and  invidious.  The  disci- 
pline of  the  university  depends  entirely  on  the  rigour 
with  which  these  gentlemen  discharge  their  duty  ;  and 
this  mode  of  administration  is  favourable  neither  to 
uniformity  nor  firmness.  As  the  Prorector  is  changed 
every  half  year,  all  the  good  which  a  man  of  vigi- 
lance and  determination  has  effected  in  six  months 
may  be  undone,  as  it  often  has  been  undone,  during 
the  following  six,  by  the  carelessness,  the  laxity,  or 
the  connivance  of  his  successor.  He  has,  to  be 
sure,  a  committee  of  the  Senate,  to  assist  him  in  the  or- 
dinary business  ;  but,  though  this  diminishes  his  respon- 
sibility, it  does  not  in  any  way  mend  the  matter ; 
for  it  has  long  been  the  prevailing  spirit  of  ever^  Ger- 
man faculty  to  wink,  as  much  as  possible,  at  the  irre- 
gularities of  their  pupils,  and  relax  the  reins  of  disci- 
pline ; — because,  to  hold  them  with  a  firm  hand  ex- 
poses them  to  odium.  If  it  was  natural  for  the  students 
to  prefer  a  kindly,  paternal,  indulgent  jurisdiction  of 
this  kind,  on  whose  fears  and  comforts  they  could  ope- 
rate in  so  many  ways,  to  the  legal  sternness  and  strict- 
ness of  a  police  magistrate,  it  Avas  equally  natural, 
that  the  Professor  should  choose  to  be  a  favourite 
among  the  young  men,  on  whom,  in  some  measure, 
his  fame,  his  fees,  and  even  the  quiet  of  his  life  de- 
pended, rather  than  to  be  detested  by  them  as  a  tyran- 
nical master,  or  a  too  rigorous  judge.  The  Burschen 
speedily  saw  their  advantage.  Feeling  that  weak  hands 
guided  the  chariot  of  the  sun,  tliey  got  the  bit  between 
their  teeth,  and  started  off  in  their  unrestrained  course, 
setting  all  the  universities  on  fire.  For  the  rigorous 
among  their  teachers  they  had  hootings  and  pereats ; 
for  the  indulgent  they  had  vivats  and  serenades.  It 
was  nothing  uncommon  to  see  a  venerable  professor 
descend  from  among  his  folios  to  the  filial  youths  who 


116  JENA. 

fiddled  beneath  his  window  at  fall  of  night,  and,  with 
cap  in  hand,  while  tears  of  tenderness  diluted  the  rheum 
of  his  aged  ejes,  humbly  thank  the  covered  crowd  for 
the  inestimable  honour.     It  is,  no  doubt,  very  amiable 
in  these  gentlemen  to  say  that  the  spirit  of  a  young  man 
must  not  be  broken,  or  his  honour  severely  wounded ; 
that  he  is  not  to  be  punished  as  a  criminal,  but  gently 
reclaimed,  like  a  child  who  has  gone  astray,  by  the  pa- 
ternal hand  of  his  instructors;  but  the  efficiency  of  pa- 
ternal authority  has  its  bounds,  even  where  the  natural 
relation  gives  it  more  weight  than  the  metaphorical  pa- 
ternity of  the    university  fathers, — and   the   Burschen 
have  long  since  been  far  beyond  these  bounds.     When 
the  question  is,  whether  the  professors  shall  throw  off 
the  fnther,  and  assume  the  judge,  or  see  the  discipline 
of    the    university,    and    the  manners   of  its  students, 
wrecked    before    their  eyes,    these   amiable    common 
places  are  the  root  of  all  evil.     The  question  had  come 
to  this  a  century  ago,  and  the  matter  has  every  year 
been  growing  worse.     Gottingen  had  not  existed  many 
years  before  discipline  was  so   miserably  neglected,  in 
consequence  of  this  system  of  truckling,  that  Munchau- 
sen appointed  a  Syndicus,  or  superior  magistrate,  who 
had  no  connection   with  the  university,   to  superintend 
the  execution  of  the  laws.     It  has  ended  at  length,  as 
the  abuse  of  a  privilege   always  does   end,  in  the  cur- 
tailment of  this  exclusive  jurisdiction  of  which  the  pro- 
fessors were  so  proud  and  so  chary.     As  the  ordinary 
irregularities  of  the  students   have  been  mixed   up,  of 
late  years,  with  political  feelings,  to  which  even  some 
of  the  teachers  incautiously  lent  their  countenance,  the 
governments  have   in  general  found   it   prudent  to  con- 
join civil  assessors  with  the  academical  authorities,  and 
to  narrow,  on  the  whole,  the  limits  of  their   exclusive 
jurisdiction. 

I  am  not  even  sure  that  the  easy  footing  on  which 
the  professors  of  Jena  seem  to  live  with  their  students 
is  altogether  desirable;  for,  in  such  matters,  mistaken 


ACADEMICAL  JURISDICTION.  117 

affability  can  do  more  mischief  than  even  supercilious- 
ness. There  is  no  harm  in  waltzing  in  Germany,  and  no 
harm  any  where  in  playing  whist  or  the  piano;  but  a 
German  sage,  who  has  to  manage  German  Burschen, 
should  be  the  last  man  to  forget  the  proverb  which 
makes  familiarity  and  contempt  mother  and  daughter. 
The  professors  have  lately  formed  a  Landsmannschaft, 
as  it  were,  of  their  own,  to  Renown,  by  giving  them- 
selves and  the  students  an  entertaiiunent  every  Sunday 
evening  in  the  Rose,  the  same  favoured  inn  to  which 
they  have  restricted  the  Burschen  balls.  The  profes- 
sors alone  are  members  of  the  association  ;  but  each 
of  them  has  the  privilege  of  inviting  as  many  students, 
or  strangers,  as  he  thinks  proper.  The  very  intention 
of  the  thing  was,  if  not  to  gratify  the  young  men  by  a 
mark  of  attention  for  good  behaviour,  and  mortify  the 
disorderly  by  exclusion,  at  least  to  give  them  some 
chance  of  civilization,  by  submitting  them  to  the  polish 
of  well  behaved  company,  and  respectable  ladies.  On 
alternate  evenings  there  is  a  regular  concert,  for  few 
Burschen  do  not  play  some  instrument,  and  play  it 
well.  On  the  others,  there  are  tea-tables,  and  card- 
tables,  a  little  music,  and  a  little  dancing.  The  ladies 
sing,  play  the  piano,  perhaps  waltz  for  an  hour,  and, 
by  nine  o'clock,  all  is  over,  in  a  decent  Christian  way, 
— if  either  of  these  epithets  can  be  applied  to  such  a 
mode  of  spending  Sunday  evening.  The  dethroned 
Professor  of  Natural  History  was  waltzing  most  vigor- 
ously, while  the  Professor  of  Greek  hopped  vivacious- 
ly about  as  arbiter  elegantiarum.  Who,  after  this,  will 
talk  of  Heavysterns  and  Heavysides  as  representatives 
of  German  erudition  ?  Who  will  style  German  Profes- 
sors dull  book-worms,  when  they  thus  flutter  like  but- 
terflies? It  is  perfectly  true,  that  a  select  number  of 
the  young  men  thus  amuse  themselves,  for  a  couple  of 
hours,  like  well  bred  persons,  under  the  eyes  of  their 
academical  superiors;  but  this  has  a  very  partial  and 
temporary  effect.     The  teacher  and  the  taught,  those 


118  JENA. 

who  should  command,  and  those  who  should  obey,  are 
brought  together  in  a  fashion  bj  no  means  favourable 
to  rigid  dist'ipline.  I  cannot  beheve  that  the  students, 
accustomed  to  see  their  professors  tlius  occupied,  and 
to  be  thus  occupied  along  with  them,  on  Sunday  even- 
ing, can  regard  them  as  very  authoritative  personages 
on  Monday  morning.  Besides,  it  can  only  extend  to  a 
very  limited  number  ;  while  thirty  or  forty  of  the  most 
respectable  joungsters  are  growing  smooth  under  the 
hands  of  academical  ladies,  the  three  or  four  hundred, 
who  stand  most  in  need  of  reformation,  are  hatching 
academical  rebellions  over  jugs  of  beer. 

Jena  used  to  muster  about  eight  hundred  students, 
but  within  the  last  five  years,  the  number  has  diminish- 
ed to  nearly  one  half,  and,  as  in  most  other  German 
universities,  the  large  proportion  who  are  supported 
entirely  or  partly  on  charity  excites  surprise.  It  has 
been  the  bane  of  these  seminaries  that  the  liberality 
of' the  public,  and  the  mistaken  piety  of  individuals, 
converted  them,  in  some  measure,  into  charity  schools. 
Bursaries  and  exhibitions,  when  kept  within  proper 
bounds,  may  do  much  good  ;  but.  In  this  country  we 
have  no  idea  of  the  extravagant  length  to  which  they 
have  been  carried  in  the  German  universities,  the  Pro- 
testant as  well  as  the  Catholic,  and,  above  all.  In  the 
department  of  Theology.  At  the  Reformation,  there 
was  a  large  demand  for  preachers  in  the  Protestant 
market,  and  it  was  thought,  that  part  of  the  ecclesias- 
tical revenues,  thrown  open  to  the  state  by  the  down- 
fall of  popery,  could  not  be  better  employed  than  in 
encouraging  the  manufacture;  the  production  of  cler- 
gymen was  cherished  by  a  bounty.  In  the  Catholic 
countries,  again,  the  public  seminaries  had  always  a 
great  deal  of  the  hospitmm  in  them  :  theology  Is  fre- 
quently taught  in  the  cloister;  and  to  assist  the  rising 
Eriesthood  is  one  great  end  of  monastic  wealth.  A 
ierarchy,  whose  constitution  provides  for  the  finished 
priest  so  many   temples  of  indolence,   where  he   may 


BURSAniES.  li§ 

doze  away  his  life,  would  act  inconsistently,  if  it  with- 
held its  liberal  hand  in  [)reparing  him  for  his  high  des- 
tiny. The  unavoidable  consequence  of  all  this  mistak- 
en liberahty  was,  to  allure  into  the  learned  professions, 
and  particularly  into  the  church,  a  great  number  of 
men  who  otherwise  would  never  have  thought  of  quit- 
ting a  more  appropriate  otcupatiim.  Ttje  market  was 
speedily  glutted,  and  so  it  will  continue,  so  long  as  those 
premiums  exist,  which  draw  crowds  into  professions, 
where  neither  the  sins,  nor  the  diseases,  nor  the  law- 
suits of  the  people,  wicked,  sickly,  and  quarrelsome  as 
the  world  is,  can  possibly  give  them  all  bread. 

Jena  is  comparatively  free  from  this  form  of  liberal- 
ity;  the  princes  who  founded  it  have  always  been  too 
poor  to  be  nursing  fathers  to  the  church,  in  this  sense 
of  the  words.  The  only  eleemosynary  institution  is 
the  Freytisch,  or  Free-Table^  which  consists  in  this,  that 
a  certain  number  of  students  are  provided  by  the  uni- 
versity with  dinner  and  supper  at  a  public  table;  they 
must  supply  all  their  other  wants  as  they  best  can. 
Even  the  table  is  not  always  entirely  gratuitous.  The 
senate  are  in  the  habit  of  exacting,  frcm  such  as  can 
afford  it,  ^  groschen  a-day,  not  quite  a  shilling  weekly; 
and  nearly  one-half  of  the  whole  number  has  been 
known  to  pay  it.  The  whole  number  of  places  is  a  hun- 
dred and  fifty;  thus  charitable  provision  is  made  for 
more  than  one-fourth  of  all  the  students  attending  the 
university!  The  alms  have  now  assumed  a  different  form. 
The  young  men  themselves  naturally  shrunk  from  the 
inferiority  with  which  they  were  publicly  marked  in  the 
eyes  of  their  companions,  and,  stiil  more,  from  the  re- 
straints which  dinners  and  suppers,  under  academical 
inspection,  laid  upon  their  academical  liberty.  Their 
fellow  students  would  not  even  condescend  to  fight  with 
them  ;  and  no  Hindoo  can  feel  greater  horror  at  loss  of 
Caste,  than  a  Bursche  at  being  thought  unworthy  to 
scandalize.  This  forbearance  of  their  superiors  might 
sometimes  proceed  from  a  more  laudable  motive.   They 


ISO  JENA* 

knew,  that  if  one  of  these  poor  fellows  were  detected 
in  a  scandal,  he  might  possibly  forfeit  his  place  at  the 
free-table  ;  perhaps,  therefore,  to  avoid  seeking  quar- 
rels with  them  showed  more  delicacy  than  supercilious- 
ness. But  to  the  Knights  of  the  Free-Table  this  was 
the  severest  of  all  mortifications ;  they  would  not  be 
spared.  At  the  same  time,  they  were  perpetually 
complaining  of  their  provender,  and  denouncing  to  the 
Prorector,  the  butcher,  the  baker,  the  cook,  and  the 
superintendent.  All  these  circumstances  induced  the 
senate,  four  years  ago,  to  abolish  the  institution,  and 
apply  the  funds  to  the  use  of  the  same  students  in  a 
different  way.  To  each  is  allotted  a  proportional  share 
of  the  whole  sum,  and  he  is  allowed  to  eat  where  he 
chooses.  He  does  not  receive  the  money,  otherwise 
it  would  instantly  dissolve  in  beer  ;  he  selects  his  table 
in  one  of  the  numerous  eating-houses,  and,  to  the 
amount  of  the  sum  to  which  he  is  entitled,  the  univer- 
sity is  security  to  the  landlord. 

The  sudden  diminution  of  the  number  of  students 
originated  in  the  murder  of  Kotzebue,  and  the  wide 
spread,  but  extravagant  belief,  that  the  whole  body 
of  the  youth  of  Jena  were  infected  with  the  same 
principles,  would  exhibit  them  in  similar  frightful 
deeds,  if  they  could  only  be  worked  up  to  the  same 
pitch  of  devotedness  with  Kotzebue's  assassin,  and 
that  even  some  of  her  chairs  were  prostituted  to  teach 
sedition,  and  indirectly,  at  least,  to  palliate  assassina- 
tion. It  cannot  be  denied  that  there  was  enough  in 
Jena  to  teach  a  man  very  troublesome,  because  very 
vague,  though  ardent  political  doctrines ;  but  there 
was  nothing  at  all  to  teach  him  murder.  Sand's  form- 
er companions  and  instructors  uniformly  speak  of  him 
as  a  reserved,  mystical  person,  who  kept  aloof  even 
from  the  noisy  pastimes  of  his  brethren.  In  fact,  the 
storm  had  long  been  gathering  over  Jena.  Jena  had 
arranged  the  Wartburg  festival,  which  was  treated  as 
downright  rebellion;  Jena  had  given  birth  to  the  Bur- 


DR.  OKEN.  121 

schenschaft,  an  institution  of  most  problematical  ten- 
dency; anjong  the  professors  of  Jena  liad  appeared 
the  periodical  publications  wliich  disturbed  the  sleep 
of  all  the  diplomatists  of  Frankfort  and  Vienna.  The 
murder  ol'  Kotzebue,  a  man,  the  manner  of  whose 
death  did  Germany  more  mischief  than  all  the  servile 
volumes  he  could  have  written,  furnished,  unfortunate- 
ly, too  good  a  pretext  for  crushing  the' obnoxious  uni- 
versity. Jena  was  proscribed  :  some  of  the  states  ex- 
pressly prohibited  their  youth  to  study  there:  in  all, 
it  was  allowed  to  be  known,  that  those  who  did  would 
be  looked  on  with  an  evil  eye. 

If  it  be  impossible  to  acquit  some  of  the  Professors 
of  having  been  misled,  by  tlieir  zeal  for  political  ame- 
liorations, incautiously  to  countenance  the  extravagan- 
ces of  their  pupils,  the  imprudence  has  brought  a 
severe  punishment  on  all  ; — for  all  have  suffered  most 
sensibly  from  the  diminution  in  the  number  of  students. 
They  have  been  attacked,  too,  with  suspensions,  de- 
positions, and  threats.  Fries,  the  Professor  of  Me- 
taphysics, attended  the  festival  on  the  Wartburg, 
where  the  students  burned  certain  slavish  books  ;  he 
was  suspended  from  his  office,  and  has  not  yet  been 
restored.  The  most  unfortunate,  as  the  most  impru- 
dent of  all,  was  Dr.  Oken,  the  Professor  of  Natural 
History.  The  scientific  world  allows  him  to  be  a  man 
of  most  extensive  and  accurate  learning  in  all  the  de- 
partments of  his  science.  His  character  is  entirely 
made  up  of  placidity  and  kindliness;  in  conversation 
he  seems  studiously  to  avoid  touching  on  political 
topics ;  he  is  apparently,  and  the  voice  of  his  col- 
leagues declares  him  to  be  in  reality,  among  the  most 
tranquil,  mild,  easy  minded  men  alive.  He,  too,  was 
at  the  Wartburg,  and,  in  the  contest  of  opinion  which 
arose  in  Germany  about  the  establishment  of  internal 
liberty.  Dr.  Oken,  like  most  of  his  colleagues,  took  the 
liberal  side.  He  was  editor  of  the  Isis,  a  periodical 
publication  devoted  entirely  to  natural  science  :  but  he 
16 


122  JENA. 

now  befi^an  to   consecrate  its  pages   to  political  discus- 
sion.    He    wrote    galling    things,   and    the   manner   in 
which  he  said  them  was  perhaps  more  provoking  than 
wiiat    was   said.     From   his  style  of  learning,    ite  was 
probably    the    very  last    man   in    the    university    that 
should  iiave   meddled  with  politics  ;  and,   unfortunate- 
ly,  he   meddled   with   them  in  a   more   irriiaiing   way 
than    any   other    person.     Russia,    Austria,   and,   it   is 
said,   Prussia,   insisted  he  should   be  dismis*-ed  as  the 
most  dangerous  of  Jacobins,  who  was  organizing  a  re- 
volution in  the  bosom  of  the   university.     The  Grand 
Duke,  who  loves  not   harshness,  long  resisted    taking 
so  decisive  a  step  against  a  man  so  universally  beloved 
for  his   personal,   and  respected   for   his  scientific  cha- 
racter ;  but  all  he  could  gain  was,  that  Dr.  Oken  should 
have  the  choice  of  giving  up  his  journal,  or  resigning 
his  chair.     The  Professor   refused  to  do  either,  saying 
very  justly,  that  he  knew  no  law  which  rendered  them 
incompatible.     His  doom  was  fixed.     In  June  1819  he 
was  dismissed  from    his  office,    without  any    farther  in- 
quiry,  or  any   sentence    of  a   court    of  justice.     The 
standing  commission  of  the   Weimar    paiTiament  gave 
its  approbation  to  the  measure  at  the  time,  and,  as  has 
been  already   mentioned,  when  the  question  was  after- 
wards brought  before  the  whole  chamber,  that    body, 
to  the  astonishment  of  all  Germany,  voted  the  dismis- 
sal to  be  legfal. 

Jt  IS  unnecessary  to  say,  that  the  fall  of  the  Profes- 
sor increased  the  idolatry  of  the  Burschen  towards  him. 
On  his  deposition,  they  presented  to  him  a  silver  cup, 
Avbich  he  displays  on  his  frugal  board  with  an  honest 
pride,  bearing  the  inscription,  Wermuth  war  Dir  gebo- 
then ;  trinke  WeinJ^  A  person  in  Weimar,  who  had 
cultivated  natural  history,  left  behind  him,  at  his  death, 
a  valuable  collection  of  foreign  and  native  insects, 
which  his   widow   wished  to  sell.     No  sooner  did  the 

*  Wormwood  was  offered  thee;  drink  wine. 


PROFESSOR  LUDEN.  123 

students  learn  that  Oken  was  in  treaty  for  It,  than 
they  purchased  it  at  their  own  expense,  and  presented 
it  to  him  in  the  name  of  the  Bursclix^n.  The  patience 
and  equanimity  with  which  he  has  borne  his  misfor- 
tune have  concihated  e\cry  body.  The  Isis,  reclaim- 
ed from  her  political  wanderings,  has  returned  to 
chemistry  and  natural  history,  with  equal  benefit  to 
her  master,  and  to  the  sciences;  and  all  join  in  the 
hope,  that  Dv.  Oken  will  soon  be  restored  to  the  chair 
which  he  filled  so  usefully. 

Luden,  Professor  of  History,  would  probably  have 
shared  the  same  fate,  had  he  not  read  the  signs  of  the 
times  more  accurately,  and  retired  seasonably  from 
the  contest.  In  his  own  department,  he  has  justly  the 
reputation  of  being  one  of  the  best  heads  in  Germany. 
He  possesses  great  learning ;  he  is  acute,  nervous,  and 
eloquent,  occasionally  intolerably  caustic,  and  some- 
times over-hasty  and  fiery  in  his  opinions,  or  rather  in  de- 
fending them.  The  party  that  numbers  Luden  among 
its  champions  is  sure  to  be  deficient  neither  in  learning, 
nor  logic,  nor  wit.  His  class  has  always  been  the  most 
numerously  attended  in  the  university,  for  the  marrow 
of  his  prelections  consists,  not  in  narrations  of  historical 
facts  which  any  body  can  read  in  a  book,  but  m  elu- 
cidations and  disquisitions  springing  out  of  these  facts, 
which,  if  not  always  correct,  are  always  clever.  He 
is  an  idolater  of  Sir  William  Temple,  of  whom  he  has 
written  a  life.  "  If  1  know  any  thing,"  said  he,  one 
day  in  his  lecture,  "of  the  spirit  of  history,  or  if  I 
have  learned  to  judge  of  political  institutions  and  poli- 
tical conduct,  it  is  to  Sir  Wjlliam  Temple  that  I  owe 
it  all."  In  the  beginning  of  1814,  when  Germany  was 
about  to  put  forth  all  her  power  to  banish  the  long 
endured  domination  of  France,  Luden  began  the  pub- 
lication of  his  Nemesis.  As  its  name  imports,  the 
great  object  of  the  journal  was  to  rouse  and  keep 
alive  the  public  feeling,  and  it  is  said  to  have  been 
wonderfully  successful.     After  the  general  peace  arose 


124  JENA. 

internal  political  irritation.  The  Nemesis,  having  noth- 
ing more  to  do  with  France,  now  became  the  bulwark 
of  the  liberals  of  Germany.  The  opposite  party 
dreaded  it  more  than  any  other,  both  from  the  talent 
which  it  displayed,  and  the  weight  of  the  editor's 
character,  who  was  well  known  to  be  no  visionary, 
and  to  be  perfectly  master  of  the  subjects  that  were 
treated  in  his  journal.  Neither  did  it  give  them  the 
same  convenient  handle  as  the  imprudent  Isis ;  for  it 
indulged  in  nothing  personal,  or  irritating,  or  disre- 
spectful. It  was  no  book  for  the  many;  it  dealt  only 
in  sober  political  disquisitions,  and  erudite  historical  il- 
lustrations, tainted  with  a  good  deal  of  that  metaphy- 
sic  which  belongs  to  all  German  politicians.  Perhaps 
these  very  qualities  rendered  a  victory  over  the 
Nemesis  indispensable,  and  Luden's  unfortunate  colli- 
sion with  Kotzebue  furnished  too  good  an  opportunity 
for  at  least  harassing  the  editor. 

An  article  in  the  Nemesis,  written  by  Luden  him- 
self, in  which  he  took  a  view  of  the  condition  and 
policy  of  the  leading  European  powers,  ccntalned  some 
remarks  on  the  internal  admiiilstration  and  foreign 
policy  of  Russia, — not,  indeed,  in  the  style  of  eulogy, 
but  just  as  little  in  that  of  Insult  or  disrespect.  Kot- 
zebue was  finishing  his  second  report  to  the  Emperor 
of  Russia  on  the  occurrences  of  German  literature, 
"when  this  tract  came  under  his  eye.  Already  in  open 
war  with  all  universities  and  all  professors,  he  inserted 
a  very  partial  and  unfavourable  notice  of  it  in  his  bul- 
letin, suppressing  every  thing  respectful  or  laudatory 
that  was  said  ol  Russia,  setting  every  thing  censorious 
in  the  most  odious  light,  and  accompanying  the  whole 
"with  virulent  remarks,  equally  injurious  to  the  public 
and  private  character  of  the  author.  Kotze hue's  re- 
ports were  written  in  French,  and  were  transcribed 
by  a  person  m  Weimar,  before  being  sent  to  St.  Pe- 
tersbiirgh.  The  copyist  was  no  adept  in  French  ;  and 
being   doubtful   of  some    passages,   he   requested    his 


PROFESSOR  LUDEN.  125 

neighbour,  Dr.  L ,   to  read   them   for  lilm.     It  so 

happened  that  these  sentences  were  among  the  most 
virulent  against  Luden,  of  whom  Dr.  L was  an  in- 
timate accpiaintance.  The  lattei-,  struck  with  their 
cliaracter,  prevailed  on  llie  copyist  to  leave  the  manu- 
script with  him  for  a  few  hours,  transcribed  all  that 
related  to  his  friend,  and  sent  it  oiFto  Jena.  A  new 
number  of  the  Nemesis  was  in  the  press  ;  Luden  sent 
the  extracts  from  Kotzebue's  report  to  be  printed  in 
it,  accompanied  with  a  very  ample  and  bitter  com- 
mentary. This  journal  was  printed  in  Weimar;  Kot- 
zebue  learned,  it  was  never  discovered  how,  that  a 
portion  of  his  bulletin,  and  a  portion  which  he  was  not 
at  all  desirous  that  Germany  should  know,  was  to  ap- 
pear in  the  next  number;  and,  on  his  apjjhcation,  the 
Russian  Resident  demanded  that  this  alleged  violation 
of  private  property  should  be  prevented.  Count  Ed- 
ling,  who  was  at  that  time  foreign  minister,  immediately 
ordered  Bertuch  not  to  proceed  with  the  printing  of 
that  number  of  the  Nemesis.  But  it  so  happened, 
that  great  part  of  the  impression  was  already  thrown 
otT;  and,  as  there  was  no  order  not  to  publish^  the 
printed  copies  were  sent  to  Jena  to  be  distributed. 
Kotzebue  stormed  ;  all  the  numbers  of  the  Nemesis, 
containing  the  obnoxious  article,  were  seized  and  con- 
demned. The  seizure  was  in  vain,  for  Oken  immedi- 
ately republished  it  in  the  Isis.  The  Isis  was  seized 
and  condemned,  and  Wieland  immediately  reprinted  it 
in  his  "Friend  of  the  People."*  This  journal,  too,  was 
seized  and  condemned  ;  but  the  matter  was  by  this  time 
over  all  Germany.     Kotzebue,  detected  in  his  malevo- 

*  This  was  the  son  of  the  great  Wieland.  He  had  some  talent, 
but  was  unsteady,  llis  "  Friend  of  the  People"  was  suppressed  ; 
then  he  tried  to  re-establish  it  under  the  title  of  ^'  The  Friend  of 
Princes," — but  various  princes  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  such 
friends;  then  it  assumed  the  name  of '^  The  Patriot;"  but  no  print- 
ed Proteus  can  escape  a  vigilant  Police,  and  at  last  Wieland  died, 
just  at  the  proper  time,  when  he  had  nothing  to  do. 


126  JENA. 

lence,  thwarted  in  all  his  attempts  at  suppression, and  the 
object  of  general  dislike,  v\as  exasperated  to  the  utter- 
most. He  railed  at  the  government  of  Weimar,  in 
good  set  terms,  threatened  the  grand  duchy  with  the 
vengeance  of  the  Russian  Autocrat,  and  retired,  fum- 
in<2;',  to  Manheim.  Criminal  proceedings  were  institut- 
ed against  Luden ;  the  court  at  Weimar  sent  the  case 
for  judgment  to  the  University  of  Leipzig,  which  con- 
demned the  professor  to  pay  a  fine,  or  go  to  prison 
for  three  months ;  but,  on  an  appeal  to  the  supreme 
court  at  Jena,  the  centence  was  reversed.  It  was  now 
his  turn  to  attac!:.  He  prosecuted  Kotzebue  for  de- 
famation ;  v.nd  the  cojrt  at  Weinaar,  which  seems  to 
have  been  dotsrmined  to  keep  clear  of  the  matter 
altogether,  sent  the  case  to  the  juridical  faculty  of 
Wiirzburg.  That  university  ordained  Kotzebue  to 
recant  what  he  had  written  egainst  Luden,  as  being 
false  and  injurious,  and  to  pay  the  costs  of  suit.  The 
progress,  and,  still  more,  the  judicial  termination  of 
this  affair  could  not  be  agreeable  to  the  court  of  St. 
Petersburgh,  v/hose  influence,  from  family  connections, 
must  always  be  powerful  at  Weimar.  Harassed  by 
the  troublesome  consequences  of  the  quarrel,  foresee- 
ing the  progress  of  the  policy,  that,  in  a  few  months, 
introduced  a  censorship,  under  which  he  would  have 
disdained  to  proceed,  and  apprehending,  perhaps,  a 
similar  fate  to  that  which  so  soon  overtook  Dr.  Oken, 
Professor  Luden  gave  up  together  the  struggle  and 
the  Nemesis. 


PEASANTRY.  *  127 


CHAPTER  IV. 


WEISSENFELS — LEIPZIG — DRESDEN. 

Gott  segne  Sachsenland, 

Wo  fest  die  Treue  stand 

In  Sturm  und  Nacht. 

Saxon  Kational  Hymn. 

From  Weimar,  the  territory  of  the  grand  duchy 
still  stretches  a  dozen  miles  to  the  northward,  along 
the  great  commercial  road  between  Frankfort  and 
Leipzig,  till  it  meets  the  southern  frontier  of  Prussia, 
on  the  summit  of  the  Eckartsberg,  a  woody  ridge  into 
which  the  country  gradually  rises,  and  from  time  im- 
memorial a  chace  of  the  House  of  Weimar.  There  is 
less  culture,  and  less  population,  than  in  the  southern 
districts,  for  the  country  is  cold  and  hilly.  The  villa- 
ges are  generally  in  the  hollows,  on  the  bank  of  some 
small  stream,  rural  enough  in  their  accompaniments, 
but  frequently  betraying  in  themselves  utter  penury. 
One  wonders  where  the  people  come  from  wno  pay 
the  taxes  in  this  country.  Districts  have  been  known 
to  pay  in  agricultural  produce,  from  inability  to  raise 
money.  It  can  only  be  an  incorrigible  attachment  to 
old  habits,  that  induces  the  peasantry  still  to  use  so 
much  wood  in  building  their  cottages,  where  stone  is 
abundant,  fuel  scarce  and  expensive,  and  fires  frequent 
and  destructive.  A  watchman,  appointed  for  the  spe- 
cial purpose,  (Dcr  Feuerwachtcr,)  looks  out  all  night 
from  the  tower  of  the  old  castle  in  Weimar,  to  give 
the  alarm  if  fire  appear  within  his  horizon.  1  have 
seen  a  village  of  fortj-eight  houses  reduced  to  a  heap 
of  aslies  in  a  couple  of  hours,  except  the  church, 
which  was  of  stone.  From  the  materials  used  in 
building  and  roofing,  and  the  connection  of  the  houses 


128  DR.  MULLNER. 

with  each  other,  every  peasant  is  exposed,  not  only  to 
his  own  mischances,  but  to  those,  hkewise,  of  ail  his 
neighbours  ;  for,  if  one  house  in  the  village  take  fire, 
the  probabihty  always  is,  that  very  few  will  escape. 
Yet  the  peasant  will  rather  run  the  risk  of  having  his 
house  burned  about  his  ears  twice  a-year,  than  be  at 
the  expense  of  insuring  it.  In  the  last  session  of  the 
Landtags  a  plan  was  introduced  for  establishing  an  in- 
surance company  by  public  authority,  the  insurance  in 
which  should  be  compulsory.  It  no  doubt  sounds 
strange  to  talk  of  compelling  people  to  do  themselves 
a  good  turn;  but,  without  some  similar  intervention  of 
public  authority,  the  want  of  capital  and  enter[)rlse  is 
•a  sufficient  bar  to  the  establishment  of  such  institu- 
tions. 

At  Welssenfels,  which  has  its  name  (the  White 
Rock)  from  the  range  of  precipices  whose  foot  is 
washed  by  the  Saal,  the  stranger  regaids  with  much 
indiiference,  in  the  vaults  of  the  old  castle,  the  cum- 
bersome coffins  of  uninteresting  princes,  and  visits  with 
reverence  the  apartment  in  which  tlie  bleeding  body 
of  Gustavus  Adolj)hus  was  deposited  after  the  battle 
of  Lutzen.  An  inscription,  commemorating  the  events 
records,  among  other  things,  that  tlie  heart  of  the 
hero  weighed  ten  pounds  some  ounces.  Part  of  the 
wall  of  the  room  had  been  stained  with  his  blood,  and 
it  was  long  anxiously  preserved,  till  the  plaster  was 
cut  out,  and  carried  off  by  Swedish  soldiers.  The 
spot  itself  is  still  religiously  protected  against  all  white- 
washings, and  covered  by  a  sliding  pannel,  retains  its 
old  dlrtv  hue. 

Dr.  Mullncr,  the  great  living  dramatist  of  Germany, 
honours  Welssenfels  with  his  residence.  He  is  a  doc- 
tor of  laws,  and  an  advocate,  a  profession  which  sup- 
plies tragedy  writei's  in  more  countries  than  one  ;  but 
he  gets  into  so  many  disputes,  with  neighbours  and 
booksellers,  that  he  is  jocularly  said  to  be  his  own  best 
client.     He  certainly  lias  more  of  the  spirit  of  poetry 


HAUG.  129 

in  him  than  any  of  his  living  rivals,  except  Gothe ;  but 
many  of  his  finest  passages  are  lyric,  rather  than  dra- 
matic.    His   appearance  betokens  nothing  of  the  soul 
which  breathes  in  his   tragedies.     He  was   still  in  bed 
at  mid-day,  for  he  never  begins  his  poetical  labours  till 
after  midnight.     He  spends  the  hours  of  darkness  with 
the  ladies  of  Parnassus,  disturbs  the  whole  neighbour- 
hood by  the  vehemence   witli    which  he  declaims  his 
newly  composed  verses,  and  late   in  the   morning  re- 
tires to  bed.     He  speaks   willingly  of  his  own  works, 
and  seems  to  have  a  very  proper  sense  of  their  merits. 
His  general  humour    is   extremely    dry   and  sarcastic. 
Gdthe  had  sent  him  over  from  Weimar  a  number  of 
Blackwood's  Magazine,   containing    a  critique  on  the 
Schuld^    with   specimens    of   a    translation.     He   took 
Blackwood  to  be  the  name  of  the  author  of  the  Maga- 
zine, and  a  distinguished  literary  character;  nor  did  he 
seem  to  give  me  his  full  belief,  when  I  assured  him,  that 
that  gentleman  was  just  a  bookseller  and  publisher  like 
his  friend  Brockhaus  in  Leipzig.     He   was  overjoyed 
to  learn  that  we  have  more  than   one  translation  of 
Leonora,  for  *'  the  yelpers,"  he  said,  were  beginning  to 
allege,  that  Burger  had  stolen  it  from  an  old  Scottish 
ballad.     We  cannot   claim  that   honour,  but  some  of 
Dr.  Mullner's   brethren  plunder  us  without  mercy  or 
acknowledgment.     A  very  meritorious  piece  of  poetry 
was  once  pointed  out  to  me  in  the  works  of  Haug,  the 
epigrammatist,  as  a  proof  that  the   simple  ballad  had 
not  died  out   with   Schiller.     It  was   neither  less  nor 
more  than  a  translation  of  our  own  delicious  "  Barbara 
Allan,"  whom  Haug  had  converted,  so  far  as  I  recol- 
'  lect,  into  "  Julia  Klangen." 

Haug  has  written  too  many  epigrams  to  have  writ- 
ten many  good  ones  ;  they  want  point  and  delicacy.  He 
has  no  fewer  than  an  hundred  on  the  Bardolphian 
nose  of  an  innkeeper  who  had  offended  him.  One  of 
his  best  is  in  the  form  of  an  epitaph  on  a  lady  of  rank 
and  well  known  gallantry,  and  the  idea  is  new : 

17 


ISO  LUTZEN. 

As  Titus  thought,  so  thought  the  fair  deceased, 
And  daily  made  one  happy  man,  at  least.* 

It  was  in  the  name  of  the  same  lady,  who  spoke  much 
too  boldly  ol"  her  contempt  for  the  calumnies  of  the 
world,  that  he  afterwards  sung, — 

"  I  wrap  me  in  my  Tirtue's  spotless  vest;*' 
That's  what  the  world  calls,  going  lightly  dressed. 

The  difference  between  courtship  and  marriage  has 
been  the  theme  of  wits  since  the  first  bride  was  won, 
and  the  first  epigram  turned.  Haug  does  not  belie  his 
trade  : 

She.  You  men  are  angels  while  you  woo  the  maid, 
But  devils  when  the  marriage-vow  is  said. 

He.  The  change,  good  wife,  is  easily  forgiven  ; 
We  find  ourselves  in  hell,  instead  of  heaven. 

A  continued  plain  extends  from  Weissenfels  to  Leip- 
zig. At  Lutzen,  the  road  runs  through  the  field  on 
which  Gustavus  and  Wallenstein,  each  of  them  as  yet 
unconquered,  brought  their  skill  and  prowess  to  the 
trial  against  each  other  for  the  first,  the  last,  the  only 
time.  Close  by  the  road  is  the  spot  where  Gustavus 
fell  under  repeated  wounds,  buried  beneath  a  heap  of 
dead  piled  above  his  corpse  in  the  dreadful  conflict 
which  took  place  for  his  dead  body.  A  number  of 
unhewn  stones,  set  horizontally  in  the  earth,  in  the 
form  of  a  cross,  mark  the  spot.  On  one  of  them  is 
rudely  carved  in  German,  "  Gustavus  Adolphus,  King 
of  Sweden,  fell  here  for  liberty  of  conscience."  A 
shapeless  mass  that  rises  from  the  centre  of  the  cross, 
and,  since  that  day,  has  been  called  "The  Stone  of  the 
Swede,"  bears  merely  the  initials  of  the  monarch's 
name.     Though   in   a   field,  and  close  upon  the   road* 

*  Hier  schlummert  die  wie  Titus  dachte. 
Und  tjiglich  einen  gliicklich  machte. 


LEirZIG.  151 

neither  plough  nor  wlieel  has  been  allowed  to  profane 
the  spot.  Some  pious  liand  has  planted  round  it  a  lew 
poplars,  and  disposed  within  the  circle  some  rude  ben- 
ches of  turf,  where  the  wanderer  may  linger,  musing 
on  the  deeds  and  the  fate  of  a  heroic  and  chivalrous 
monarch.  This  rude  memorial, standing  on  his  "death- 
bed of  fame,"  produces  a  deeper  I'eeling  of  reality  and 
veneration  than  many  mountains  of  marble — than 
"  sculptured  urn  and  monumental  bust," — so  powerful 
are  the  associations  which  locality  can  call  up. 

Immediately  beyond  Lutzen,  Royal  Saxony  begins 
to  "  rear  her  diminished  head," — a  portion  of  Germa- 
ny, which,  in  the  arts  and  elegancies  of  life,  as  well  as 
in  industry,  acknowledges  no  superior.  Leipzig  gives 
at  once  full  proof  of  the  latter.  The  banker,  the  mer- 
chant, and  the  bookseller,  would  assuredly  find  in  it  a 
great  deal  that  is  worthy  his  notice  ;  but  to  the  tra- 
veller who  has  none  of  those  sources  of  interest,  it  pre- 
sents, after  Frankfort,  little  that  is  new.  To  any  oth- 
er foreigner,  a  town  like  the  one  or  the  other  is  infi- 
nitely more  amusing  than  to  a  Briton  ;  for  to  the  for- 
mer it  is  novel  and  unique,  and  hence  the  wonderment 
with  which  they  speak,  and  the  pride  with  which  they 
boast  of  it.  The  German,  the  Russian,  the  Pole,  the 
Austrian,  the  Italian,  the  Swiss,  and,  in  an  hundred  in- 
stances, the  Frenchman,  has  seen  nothing  like  such  a 
scene  of  commercial  activity,  and  possibly  will  see  no- 
thing like  it  again  : — such  regiments  of  bales,  such 
mountains  of  wool-packs,  such  firmaments  of  mirrors, 
such  processions  of  porters  and  carters,  are  to  him  a 
new  world  ;  and  when  the  novelty  has  worn  off,  he 
forms  his  opinion  of  the  place,  at  last,  according  as 
he  has  been  seeking  money  or  amuseuient.  But  to  a 
Briton,  fresh  from  his  own  country,  the  chandler's  shop 
of  Europe,  and  the  weaving  factory  of  the  universe,  a 
town  like  Leipzig  has  not  even  the  charm  of  novelty 
in  what  renders  it  striking  and  interesting  to  most  other 
people.  Only  individual  groupes  now  and  then  attract 
his  notice. 


ISfi  LEIPZIG. 

Leipzig  does  not  equal  Frankfort  in  pomp  and  bus- 
tle, but  it  is  a  much  more  imposing  and  better  built 
town.  There  is  an  odd  mixture  of  the  old  and  the 
new,  which  is  far  from  producing  any  unpleasant  effect. 
Few  towns  exhihit  so  much  of  the  carved  masonry 
which  characterized  the  old  German  style  of  building, 
joined  with  so  much  stateliness.  The  whole  wears  an 
air  of  comfort  and  substantiality,  which  accords  excel- 
lently well  with  the  occupations  and  character  of  the 
inhabitants.  Many  of  the  shops  would  make  a  figure 
even  in  London  ;  but  then  they  are  full  of  English 
wares,  and  many  of  those  who  frequent  them  are  full 
of  English  mannerism.  The  dandyism  of  Bond  Street 
lounges  at  the  desks  and  behind  the  counters  of  Leip- 
zig, in  more  than  its  native  exaggeration.  The  more 
sober  inhabitants,  well  acquainted  with  our  imitation- 
shawls,  denominate  these  young  countiymen  of  their 
own,  Imitation-Englishmen.  But  Frankfort  has  im- 
measurably the  advantage  inevery  thing  outside  of  the 
town.  The  level,  well-cultivated,  monotonous  country 
round  Leipzig,  poor  in  natural  beauty,  but  rich  in  his- 
torical recollections,  abundantly  supplies  the  wants, 
without  olFering  any  thing  to  gratify  the  taste,  of  the 
citizens.  The  field  where  Gustavus  took  vengeance 
on  the  ferocious  Tilly,  for  the  sack  of  Magdeburg — 
ihe  field  where  Gustavus  himself  fell — the  field  where, 
in  our  own  day,  united  Germany  "  broke  her  chains  on 
the  oppressor's  head,"  all  surround  this  peaceful  mart 
of  commerce.  Leipzig  has  seen  more  blood  shed  in  its 
neighbourhood,  and  more  merchandize  pouring  wealth 
through  its  streets,  than  any  other  city  of  Germany. 

Many  parts  of  the  city  still  bear  distinct  traces  of 
the  obstinate  conflict  which  took  place,  when  the  Al- 
lies, in  the  heat  of  victory,  forced  their  way  into  the 
town.  The  houses  in  the  principal  streets  of  the  su- 
burb through  which  the  infuriated  Prussians  advanced, 
are  riddled  with  shot ;  and  the  inhabitants,  far  from 
wishing   to  obliterate  these  memorials  of  the   Fo'i 


THE  CITY.  135 

schlacht,  or  Battle  of  the  People,  as  they  term  It,  have 
careful!}'  imbedded  in  the  walls  cannon-balls  which  had 
rebounded.  The  Elster,  which  runs  through  part  of 
the  suburbs,  and  occasioned  the  fujal  destruction  of  the 
French  army,  is  in  reality  but  a  ditch,  and  neither  a 
deep  nor  a  broad  one.  Where  it  washes  the  garden 
of  Mr.  Reichenbach's  summer  pavihon,  it  received  Po- 
niatowski,  who,  already  wounded,  took  his  way  through 
the  garden,  when  all  was  lost,  and  sunk,  with  his  wound- 
ed horse,  in  this  apparently  innocuous  rivulet.  A  plain 
stone  marks  the  spot  where  the  body  was  found;  and, 
in  the  garden  itself,  an  unadorned  cenotaph  has  been 
erected  by  private  affection  to  the  memory  of  the  Po- 
lish chief. 

In  the  cemetery,  one  of  the  largest  and  most  homely 
in  Europe,  whose  most  interestuigg'ave  is  that  c»f  Gel- 
lert,  the  pious  father  of  German  literature,  I  observed 
an  old  epitaph,  extremely  characteristic  of  the  reign- 
ing spirit  of  the  place,  but  in  much  too  light  a  strain  to 
be  imitated,  though  undoubtedly  the  writer  held  it,  in 
his  day,  to  be  a  very  ingenious  combination  of  piety 
and  bank  business.  It  is  in  the  form  of  a  bill  of  ex- 
change for  a  certain  quantity  of  salvatiotj,  drawn  on 
and  accepted  by  the  Messiah,  in  favour  of  the  mer- 
chant who  is  buried  below,  and  payable  in  heaven,  at 
the  day  of  judgment. 

Every  citizen  of  Leipzig  boasts  of  the  church  of  St, 
Nicholas,  and  its  paintings,  as  a  splendid  proof  of  the 
good  taste  of  his  mercantile  city  in  the  arts,  and  the 
munificence  with  which  it  has  cherished  them.  It  has 
the  singular  mcrrt  of  being  in  the  form  of  a  square,  a 
very  questionable  innovation.  The  Coiinthian  pillars, 
which  separate  the  j  ave  from  the  aisles,  are  handsome 
objects  in  themselves,  but  the  barbarous  or  fantastic 
architect  has  enveloped  the  capitals  in  sprawling  bun- 
ches of  palm  leaves,  a  deplorable  substitute  for  the 
acanthus.  He  seems  to  have  had  some  idea  in  his  head 
of  making  the  roof  appear  to   rest   on  palm  trees.     In 


134  LEIPZIG. 

general,  it  is  difficult  to  judge  of  architectural  beauty 
in  the  interior  of  a  Protestant  church,  provided  with 
all  its  accommodations  ;  for  the  arrangements  required, 
or  supposed  to  be  required,  bj  the  Protestant  service, 
are  frequently  incompatible  with  architectural  effect. 
The  galleries,  for  example,  take  all  beauty  from  the 
pillars  which  they  divide  ;  and  here  there  is  a  double 
tier  of  them.  Santa  Maria  Maggiore,  and  San  Paolo 
fuori  delle  Mura,  (while  it  yet  stood,)  present  the  no- 
blest architectural  perspectives  in  Europe  ;  but  what 
would  become  of  them,  if  their  pillars  were  loaded 
with  galleries? 

The  altar-piece  of  this  church,  as  well  as  the  host  of 
Scriptural  paintings  which  cover  the  walls  of  the  choir, 
are  all  from  the  pencil  of  Oeser,  an  artist  of  the  last 
century,  who  enjoyed,  in  his  day,  a  reputation  which 
the  church  of  St.  Nicholas  does  not  justify.  To  the 
uninitiated  eye,  at  least,  his  productions  here  are  defi- 
cient in  expression,  in  effect,  and  variety  of  grouping, 
and  languish  under  a  we;ik  monotonous  colouring.  The 
modern  German  painters  have  very  generally  forsaken 
the  department  in  whic-i  the  old  artists  of  their  country 
performed  such  wonders :  that  palm  has  passed  to 
Scotland.  Labouring  to  form  themselves,  as  it  is  styled, 
after  the  Italian  masters,  they  degenerate  into  insipid 
mannerists,  and  fill  the  world  with  eternal  repetitions 
of  Madonnas  and  Holy  Families. 

As  Frankfort  monopolizes  the  trade  in  wine,  so  Leip- 
zig monopolizes  the  trade  in  books.  It  is  here  that 
every  German  author  (and  in  no  country  are  authors  so 
numerous)  wishes  to  produce  the  children  of  his  brain, 
and  that,  too,  only  during  the  Easter  fair.  He  will 
submit  to  any  dep^ree  of  exertion,  that  his  work  may 
be  ready  for  publication  by  that  important  season,  when 
the  whole  brotherhood  is  in  labour,  from  the  Rhine  to 
the  Vistula.  Whatever  the  period  of  gestation  may 
be,  the  time  when  he  shall  come  to  the  birth  is  fixed  by 
the  Almanack.     If  the  auspicious  moment  pass  away. 


THE  BOOK-TRADE.  135 

he  willingly  bears  his  burden  twelve  niontiis  longer, 
till  the  next  advent  of  the  Bibllopolical  Lucina  This 
periodical  littering  at  Leipzig  does  not  at  all  arise,  as  is 
sometimes  supposed,  from  all  or  most  oi"  the  books 
being  printed  there  ;  Leipzig  has  onlv  its  own  propor- 
tion of  printers  and  publishers.  It  arises  from  the 
manner  in  which  this  branch  of  trade  is  carried  on.  in 
Germany.  Every  bookseller  of  any  eminence,  through- 
out the  Confederation,  has  an  agent  or  commissioner  in 
Leipzig.  If  he  wishes  to  procure  works  which  have 
been  published  by  another,  he  does  not  address  himself 
directly  to  the  publisher,  but  to  his  own  commissioner 
in  Leipzig.  The  latter,  again,  whether  he  be  ordered 
to  transmit  to  another  books  published  by  his  principal, 
or  to  procure  for  his  principal  books  published  by 
another,  instead  of  dealing  directly  with  the  person 
from  whom  he  is  to  purchase,  or  to  whom  he  is  to  sell, 
treats  only  with  his  Leipzig  agent.  The  order  is  re- 
ceived by  the  publisher,  and  the  books  by  the  purchaser 
at  third  hand.  The  whole  book-trade  of  Germany 
thus  centres  in  Leipzig.  Wherever  books  may  be 
printed,  it  is  there  they  must  be  bought;  it  is  there 
that  the  trade  is  supplied.  Such  an  arrangement, 
though  it  employ  four  persons  in  every  sale  instead  of 
two,  is  plainly  an  advantageous  arrangement  for  Leip- 
zig; but  the  very  fact,  that  it  has  subsisted  two  hun- 
dred years,  and  still  flourishes,  seems  to  prove  that  it 
is  likewise  found  to  be  beneficial  to  the  trade  in  oreneral. 
Abuses  in  public  institutions  may  endure  for  centuries  ; 
but  inconvenient  arrangements  in  trade,  which  affect 
the  credit  side  of  a  man's  balance-sheet  at  the  end  of 
the  year,  are  seldom  so  long-lived,  and  German  book- 
sellers are  not  less  attentive  to  profit  than  any  other 
honest  men  in  an  honest  business. 

Till  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth  century,  publishers, 
in  the  proper  sense  of  the  word,  were  unknown.  John 
Otto,  born  at  Niirnberg  in  1510,  is  said  to  be  the  earliest 
on  record  who  made  bargains  for  copy-right,  without 


136  LEIPZIG. 

being  himself  a  printer.     Some  years  afterwards,  two 
reWlar  dealers  in  the  same  department  settled  m  Leip- 
zig, where  the  university,  already   in  high  fame,  had 
produced  a  demand  for  books,  from  the  moment  the 
art  of  printing  wandered  up  from  the  Rhine.     Before 
the  end  of  the  century,  the  book-iair  was  established. 
It  prospered  so  rapidly,  that,  in  1600,  the  Easier  cata- 
looue,  which  has  been  annually   cjatinued  ever  since, 
was  printed  for  the  first  time.     It  now  presents  every 
year,  in   a  thick  octavo  voluine,  a  collection  of  new 
books  and  new  editions,  to  which  there  is  no  parallel 
in  Europe.     The  writing  public  is  out  of  all  proportion 
too  large  for  the  reading  public  of  Germany.     At  the 
fair,  all  the  brethren  of  the  trade  flock  together  in 
Leipzig,  not  only  from  every   part  of  Germany,  but 
from  every  European  country  where  German  books  are 
sold,  to  settle  accounts,  and  examine  the  harvest  of  (he 
year.     The  number   always  amounts  to  several  hun- 
dreds, and  they  have  built  an  exchange  for  themselves. 
Yet  a  German  publisher  has  less  chance  of  making 
great  profits,  and  a  German  author  has  fewer  pros- 
pects of  turning  his  manuscript  to  good  account,  than 
the  same  classes  of  persons  in  any  other  country  that 
knows  the  value   of  intellectual  labour.     There   is  a 
pest  called  JVachdruckerei,  or  Reprinting,  which  gnaws 
on  the^vitals  of  the  poor  author,  and  paralyzes  the  most 
enterprising  publisher.     Each  State  of  the  Confedera- 
tion has  its  own  law  of  copy-right,  and  an  author  is 
secured  against  piracy  only  in  the  state  where  he  prints. 
But  he  writes  for  all,  for  they  all  speak  the  same  lan- 
i^uage.     If  the  book  be  worth  any  thing,  it  is  imme- 
diately reprinted  in  some  neighbouring  state,  and,  as 
the  pirate  pays  notliing  for  copy-right,  he  can  obviously 
afford  to  undersell  the  original  publisher.     Wirtemberg, 
though  she  can  boast  of  possessing  in  Cotta  one  of  the 
most  honourable  and  enterprising  publishers  of  Ger- 
many, is  peculiarly  notorious  as  a  nest  for  these  birds 
of  prey.     The  worst  of  it  is,  that  authors  of  reputa- 


PIRATICAL  PRINTERS.  137 

tion  are  precisely  those  to  whom  the  system  is  most 
fatal.  The  re  printer  meddles  with  nothing  except 
what  he  already  knows  will  find  buyers.  The  rights 
of  unsaleable  books  are  scrupulously  observed ;  the 
honest  publisher  is  never  disturbed  in  his  losing  specu- 
lations ;  but,  when  he  has  been  fortunate  enough  to 
become  master  of  a  work  of  genius  or  utility,  the  pira- 
tical publisher  is  instantly  in  his  way.  All  the  states 
do  not  deserve  to  be  equally  involved  in  this  censure  ; 
Prussia,  I  believe,  has  shown  herself  liberal  in  protect- 
ing every  German  publisher.  Some  of  the  utterly  in- 
significant states  are  among  the  most  troublesome,  for 
reprinting  can  be  carried  on  in  a  small  just  as  well  as 
in  a  great  one.  The  bookseller  who  published  Rein- 
hardt's  Sermons  was  attacked  by  a  reprint,  which  was 
announced  as  about  to  appear  at  Reutlingen,  in  Wirtem- 
berg.  The  pirate  demanded  fourteen  thousand  florins, 
nearly  twelve  hundred  pounds,  to  give  up  his  design. 
The  publisher  thought  that  so  exorbitant  a  demand 
justified  him  in  applying  to  the  government,  but  all  he 
could  gain  was  the  limitation  of  the  sum  to  a  thousand 
pounds. 

Such  a  system  almost  annihilates  the  value  of  litera- 
ry labour.  No  publisher  can  pay  a  high  price  for  a 
manuscript,  by  which,  if  it  turn  out  ill,  he  is  sure  to  be 
a  loser,  and  by  which,  if  it  turn  out  well,  it  is  far  from 
certain  that  he  will  be  a  gainer.  From  the  value, 
which  he  might  otherwise  be  inclined  to  set  on  the 
copy-right,  he  must  always  deduct  the  sum  which  it 
probably  will  be  necessary  to  expend  in  buying  off  re- 
printers,  or  he  must  calculate  that  value  on  the  sup- 
position of  a  very  limited  circulation.  At  what  rate 
would  Mr.  Murray  pay  Lord  Byron,  or  Mr.  Constable 
take  the  manuscript  of  the  Scottish  Novels,  if  the  sta- 
tute protected  the  one  only  in  the  county  of  Middlesex, 
and  the  other  only  in  the  county  of  Edinburgh  ?  Hence 
it  is  that  German  authors,  though  the  most  industrious, 
are  likewise  the  worst  remunerated  of  the  writing  tribe. 

18 


138  LEIPZIG. 

I  have  heard  it  said,  that  Gothe  has  received  for  some 
of  his  works  about  a  louls  d'or  a  sheet,  and  it  is  certain 
that  he  has  made  much  money  by  them  ;  but  I  have 
often  Hkewise  heard  the  statement  questioned  as  incre- 
dible. Burger,  in  his  humorous  epistle  to  Gokingk,  es- 
timates poetry  at  a  pound  per  sheet;  law  and  medi- 
cine   at  five  shillings. 

The  unpleasing  exterior  of  ordinary  German  print- 
ing, the  coarse  watery  paper,  and  worn-out  types,  must 
be  referred,  in  some  measure,  to  the  same  cause.  The 
publisher,  or  the  author  who  publishes  on  his  own  ac- 
count, naturally  risks  as  little  capital  as  possible  in  the 
hazardous  speculation.  Besides,  it  is  his  interest  to  di- 
minish the  temptation  to  reprint,  by  making  his  own 
edition  as  cheap  as  may  be.  The  system  has  shown 
its  effects,  too,  in  keeping  up  the  frequency  of  publi- 
cation by  subscription,  even  among  autliors  of  the  most 
settled  and  popular  reputation.  Klopstock,  after  the 
Messiah  had  fixed  his  fame,  published  in  this  way. 
There  has  been  no  more  successful  publisher  thanCot- 
ta,  and  no  German  writer  has  been  so  well  lepaid  as 
Gothe;  yet  the  last  Tiiblngen  edition  of  Gothe  himself 
is  adorned  with  a  long  list  of  subscribers.  What  would 
we  think  of  Byron,  or  Campbell,  of  Scott,  or  Moore, 
publishing  a  new  poem  by  subscription? 

Mr,  Brockhaus  is  allowed  to  be  the  most  efficient 
publisher  in  Leipzig,  and  consequently  among  the  first 
in  Germany.  He  is  a  writer,  too,  for,  on  miscellane- 
ous, particularly  political  topics,  he  frequently  suj)plles 
his  own  manuscript.  He  is  supposed  to  have  made  a 
fortune  by  one  w^ork  on  which  he  ventured,  the  Con- 
versationS' Lexicon^  a  very  compendious  EncyclopEedia. 
The  greatest  fault  of  tlie  book  is  a  want  of  due  selec- 
tion ;  personages  of  eternal  name,  and  topics  of  immu- 
table interest,  are  continclcd  or  omitted,  to  make  way 
for  men  and  matters  that  only  enjoy  a,  local  and  passing 
notoriety.  Even  a  Bntannica,  u'ith  a  Supplement, 
should  not  waste  its  pages   en  short-lived   topics,    and 


MR.  BROCKIIAUS.  139 

only  the  qtiinta  pars  neclaris  of  human  knowledge  and 
biography  should  be  aci'.nitted  into  an  Encyclopaedia  of 
ten  octavo  volumes.  The  book,  however,  has  had  a 
very  extensive  cu'culation,  and  often  forms  the  whole 
library  of  a  person  ui  the  middling  classes.  It  would 
have  proved  still  more  lucrative,  had  the  writers, 
among  whoij»  are  many  of  the  most  [)opular  names  of 
Germany,  shown  greater  deference  to  the  political 
creeds  of  the  leading  courts.  The  numerous  political 
articles,  not  merely  on  subjects  of  general  discussion, 
but  on  receiii  events,  im[)ortant  and  unimportant,  are 
all  on  the  liberal  side  of  the  question  ;  moderate,  in- 
deed, argumentative,  and  respectful,  but  still  pointing 
at  the  propriety  of  political  changes.  The  book  was 
admitted  into  tiie  Russian*  dominions  only  in  the  form 
of  an  cditio  cusligata  ;  from  this  tree  of  knowledge 
were  carefully  siiaken  all  the  fruits  which  might  enable 
tlie  nations  to  distins^uish  between  g^ood  and  evil  before 
it  was  allowed  to  be  transplanted  beyond  the  Vistula. 
Even  in  this  ameliorated  state,  it  began  to  be  regard- 
ed as,  at  least,  lurid,  if  not  downright  poisonous,  and 
ultimately  it  was  prohibited  altogether. 

Brockliaus  is,  by  way  of  eminence,  the  liberal  pub- 
lisher of  Germany.  He  shuns  no  responsibility,  and 
stands  in  constant  communication  with  all  the  popular 
journalists  and  pamphleteers.  His  Zcitgenosse^  or /V ho. 
Contemporary,  was  a  jomnal  entirely  devoted  to  poli- 
tics. It  frequently  contained  translations  of  leading 
political  articles  from  the  Edinburgh  Review;  and 
these,  again,  were  sometimes  reprinted  and  circulated 
as  pamphlets.  The  Hermes  is  of  the  same  general 
character,  a  quarterly  publication,  which  apes  in  form, 
as  well  as  matter,  one  of  our  most  celebrated  journals. 
In  1821,  his  weekly  journal.  The  Conversations-Woch' 
enblatt^  was  prohibited  in  Berlin,  and  shortly  aiterwards, 
it  was  thou>;ht  necessary  to  erect  a  separate  depart- 
ment of  I  he  Censorship  for  the  sole  purpose  of  exam- 
ining and  licensing  Brockha\is's  publications.     The  pre- 


140  DRESDEN. 

hibition  was  speedily  removed,  and  I  believe  (but  I  had 
left  Berlin  before  it  happened)  that  likewise  the  se- 
parate censorial  establishment  was  of  brief  duration. 
Brock haus  has  brought  himself  out  of  all  political  em- 
barrassments, with  great  agility  and  good  fortune,  and 
still  rails  on  at  despots  and  reprinters. 

Beyond  Leipzig  the  small  river  Mulda  is  crossed  by 
a  ferry,  and  that,  too,  on  the  great  road  which  con- 
nects Leipzig  with  Dresden,  Bohemia,  Silesia,  and 
Austria.  There  is  no  sufficient  excuse  for  this  most 
inconvenient  arrangement.  The  Mulda  is  a  trifling 
stream  in  comparison  with  the  Elbe,  and  is  less  exposed 
to  inundations;  yet  no  difficulty  has  been  found  in 
building  even  stone  bridges  across  the  Elbe.  It  is  on 
a  solid,  though  somewhat  clumsy  structure  of  this  kind, 
that  you  pass  the  river  at  Meissen;  and,  though  still  a 
dozen  miles  from  Dresden,  you  are  already  in  the  coun- 
try, which,  by  its  mixture  of  romantic  nature  with  the 
richest  possible  cultivation,  has  acquired  to  Dresden 
the  reputation  of  being  surrounded  by  more  delightful 
environs  than  any  other  European  capital.  All  the 
way  to  the  city  the  road  follows  the  Elbe,  which  pours 
its  majestic  stream  between  banks  of  very  opposite 
character.  The  left  rises  abrupt,  rocky,  woody,  and 
picturesque  ;  the  right  swells  more  gradually  into 
graceful  and  verdant  eminences,  whose  slopes  towards 
the  river  are  covered  with  vineyards.  In  all  these 
features  of  natural  beauty,  the  Elbe  is  inferior  to  the 
Rhine,  but  only  to  the  Rhine,  and  on  the  Rhine  there 
is  no  town  where  tlie  enjoyment  always  derived  from 
beautiful  scenery  is  so  much  heightened  by  the  plea- 
sures of  society,  and  the  splendid  productions  of  art. 
Much  as  a  stranger  may  have  heard  of  Dresden,  the 
approach  to  it  from  this  side  does  not  disappoint  his 
expectations.  From  the  rich  and  picturesque  scenery 
of  nature,  he  enters  at  once  among  palaces,  passes  the 
Elbe,  from  the  New  Town  to  the  Old,  on  a  noble 
bridge, — a  most  refreshing  sight  to  a  Briton,— -is  imme- 


DRESDEN.  141 

diately  stopped  by  the  gorgeous  and  Imposing  pile  of 
the  Catholic  church,  and  turns  from  it  to  the  royal  pa- 
lace. What  were  once  lofty  rampaits  now  bear  sj;acious 
alleys  along  the  river,  and  in  these  innumerable  laugh- 
ing groupes  are  perpetually  enjoying  the  scene,  or  the 
shade.  The  gayely  ot  the  hurrying  equipages,  the 
crowd  of  passengeis,  the  apparent  vivaciiy  and  hJarily 
ot  the  people,  give  a  most  favourable  first  inij)ie&sion 
of  the  ''German  Florence."  It  is  irue,  that  such  figu- 
rative terms  of  comparison  are  often  used  very  loosely  ; 
but,  although  a  German,  be  he  from  tlie  north  or  from 
the  south,  is  always  a  very  different  person  frouj  an 
Italian;  though  the  cloudless  sky  that  burns  above  the 
Arno  be  more  constant  than  the  sun  which  shines  upon 
the  Elbe;  and  though  the  capital  of  Saxony  neither 
possesses  the  Medicean  Venus,  nor  has  formed  schools 
of  painters  and  sculptors  to  be  the  wonders  of  the 
world,  yet,  in  its  natural  beauties,  in  the  character  of 
its  inhabitants,  in  its  love  of  the  arts,  and  what  it  has 
done  for  them,  Dresden  may  be  fairly  enough  said  to 
be  to  Germany  what  Florence  is  to  Italy. 

The  city  is  divided  by  the  Elbe.  Originally  it  stood 
entirely  on  the  left  bank.  That  portion  is  still  the 
largest  and  most  characteristic  part  of  the  whole,  and, 
as  it  contains  the  palace,  is  likewise  the  most  fashion- 
able. The  general  style  of  building  is  simple,  austere, 
and,  therefore,  when  in  due  dimensions,  imposing.  It 
is  easily  seen,  that  the  Saxon  nobles,  in  building  pala- 
ces, thought  chiefly  of  convenience  and  duration,  not  of 
pillared  portals  and  airy  verandas.  The  houses  are 
lofty,  and  the  streets  narrow,  as  in  all  old  towns  in  this 
part  of  the  Continent ;  but  some  of  the  principal  streets 
are  of  ample  breadth,  and  lined  with  very  stately, 
though  unadorned  buildings.  There  is  not  a  square, 
properly  so  called,  in  the  whole  city,  except  two  im- 
mense market-places,  one  of  which,  the  Altmarkt,  is  a 
fine  specimen  of  the  ordinary  civil  architecture  of  Ger- 
many, and  does  not  lose  in  comparison  even  with  the 


143  DRESDEN. 

Hofoi  Vienna.  Here,  however,  as  every  where  else, 
ot*  late  years  a  love  of  trivial  ornament  has  been  creep- 
ing in,  which  assuredly  is  far  inferior  to  the  subst.intial 
simplicity  of  former  times.  People  will  have  pilasters, 
aye,  and  pillars,  too,  and  entablatures,  and  pediments, 
where  there  is  no  space  for  them;  and  where,  though 
there  were  space,  they  would  have  no  beauty.  In 
our  own  cities,  while  public  buildings  have  long  been 
conducted  with  much  good  taste  in  the  south,  and 
some  aspirations  after  it  seem  to  be  rising  in  the  north, 
how  often  do  we  see  a  cheese-monger's  wares  repos- 
ing in  state  round  the  base  of — Doric  pillars,  I  suppose 
they  must  be  called,  or  flitches  of  bacon  proudly  sus- 
pended from  the  volutes  of  the  Ionic. 

The  JYeiistadt,  or  New  Town,  on  the  opposite  bank 
of  the  Elbe,  is  more  open,  for  the  attachment  to  nar- 
row streets  was  beginning  to  give  way  when  it  was 
commenced;  but  it  is  built  in  a  more  trivial  style:  at 
least,  it  has  that  appearance  to  the  eye;  for,  as  few 
people  of  fashion  have  hitherto  emigrated  across  the 
Elbe,  there  is  not  the  same  frequent  intermixture  of 
stately  mansions.  The  principal  street,  however, 
which  runs  in  a  right  line  from  the  bridge,  is  the  finest 
in  Dresden,  Were  it  better  planted,  it  would  more 
than  rival  the  Linden  of  Berlin. 

The  bridge  which  connects  these  two  parts  of  the 
city,  striding  across  the  river  with  eleven  noble  arches, 
is  the  first  structure  of  the  kind  in  Germany.  In  ar- 
chitectural symmetry  and  elegance,  it  cannot  vie  with 
many  of  the  French,  or  with  some  of  the  Italian 
bridges;  but  the  streaous  which  these  cross  are  ditches, 
compared  with  the  magnificent  river  which  pours  its 
waters  under  the  walls  of  Dresden.  There  is  not  a 
single  stone  bridge  on  the  Rhine,  from  where  it  leaves 
the  Lake  of  Constance  to  where  it  divides  itself  among 
the  flats  of  Holland."^"     The  Danube,  at  Ratisbonne,  is 

*  I  cannot  trust  to  my  recollection  whether  the  bridge  on  the 


THE  BRIDGE.  143 

a  much  more  manageable  stream  than  the  Elbe  :   and, 
moreover,  the  bridge  at    Ratlsboiiue  is  ugly,   unequal, 
and  not  even  uniform.     The  good  Viennese,  so  far  from 
attempting  to  tiirovv  a  stone  bridge  across  the  Danube, 
Avhere  he  passes   near  their  capital,   extol    it  as  an  un- 
paralleled   triumph  of  art  that,  a  few  years  age,  they 
built  a  wooden    bi'idge,  on  stone    piers,  over  a  narrow 
branch    of   tlie  main  stream,    which  washes  the    walls. 
The    bridges  on  tlie  Oder  at    Frankfort    and    Breslau, 
and    that  on  the   Vistula  at  Cracow,   are  all    of  wood. 
The  best  proof  of  the  solidity  of  the  bridge  of  Dresden 
is,  that   it    has   hitherto    resisted   ice   and    inundations, 
both  of   which  are    peculiarly   destructive  on  this  |;art 
of   the  river.     The  inundations   come  down  from    the 
mountains  of  Bohemia  very  rapidly,  and,  owing  to  the 
nature  of  the  country  through    which   the  river  flows 
till  it  approaches  the  city,  with  irresistible  impetuosity. 
The  northern   confines  of  the  Saxon    Switzerland   arc 
not  more  than  ten  miles  above  Dresden  and  the  Elbe, 
till    it  has  quitted    this  singular  district,    traverses  only 
deep  narrow  valleys,  or  rugged  gorges,  through  which 
it   seems    to    have    opened   a    passage.     There    is   no 
breadth  of   plain,   as  there   is  along   the    Rhine,   over 
which  an  inundation  can  spread  itself  out.     The  accu- 
mulated   mass  of   water  is   hurried   down    to  Dresden 
with   accumulating   impetus.     I    have  seen    the    Elbe 
rise  sixteen  feet  above  its  ordinary  level  within  twelve 

hours.     Such  a  course  in  a  river  is  ruinous  for  brid^res. 

-  .  ~ 

That  of  Dresden,  which  has  set  the  Elbe  at  defiance, 
could  not  resist  gunpowder;  the  French  blew  uj»  the 
centre  arch,  to  facilitate  their  retreat  to  Leipzig.  Of 
course,  it  was  perfectly  right  to  repair  it;  but  why  has 
that  barbarous  mass  of  artificial  rock,  surmounted  by 
an  uncouth  crucifix,  been  restored,  to  disfi^cure  the  cen- 

Rhine  at  Laiidenbura:,  lieJvvpen  SchnfTbausen  and  Raslf,  is  of  wood 
or  s^ione  ;  but  tiiere  ibe  ri\  or  coulil  be  surmounted  bv  a  briilg^e  in- 
linitely  mure  eaeii)'  than  the  Elbe  at  Dresden. 


144  DRESDEN. 

tre  of  the  brldi^c,  after  it  had  fortunately  been  blown 
up  aiong  with  ihc  arch?  It  is  an  incumbrance,  and  a 
very  ugly  one  :  having  been  once  fairly  got  rid  of,  it 
really  did  not  deserve  to  be  restored.  Yet  the  Em- 
peror of  Russia  has  thought  proper  to  commemorate, 
by  an  iiiscnption,  tfiat  he  restored  what  disfigures  the 
finest  bridge  in  Germany.  The  slender  iron  rail,  too, 
which  occupies  the  place  of  a  balustrade,  is  altogether 
trivial.     Tiiia  is  no  draw-bridge  across  a  canal. 

The  prospect  from  the  bridge  itself  is  celebrated 
all  over  Germany,  and  deserves  to  be  so.  Whether 
you  look  up  or  down  the  river,  the  towers  and  palaces 
of  the  city  are  pictured  in  the  stream.  A  lovely  plain, 
groaning  beneath  population  and  fertility,  retires  for  a 
short  distance  from  the  further  bank,  then  swells  up 
into  an  amphitheatre  of  gentle  slopes,  laid  out  in  vine- 
yards, decked  with  an  endless  succession  of  villages  and 
villas,  and  sliut  in,  towards  the  south,  by  the  summits 
of  the  Sachsische  Schweitz,  a  branch  of  the  moun- 
tains of  Bohemia. 

The  royal  palace — but  who  can  tell  what  the  royal 
palace  of  Dresden  is  ? — it  is  composed  of  so  many 
pieces,  running  up  one  street,  and  down  another,  and 
so  carefully  is  every  part  concealed  that  might  have 
looked  respectable.  One  sees  no  order ;  the  eye 
traces  no  connection  among  the  masses  of  which  it  is 
made  up,  and  seeks  in  vain  for  a  whole.  Unfortunate- 
ly, that  portion  which,  from  its  situation,  could  have 
made  some  show, — that  which  fronts  the  open  space 
at  the  entrance  of  the  bridge,  is  the  most  unseemly  of 
all,  and  has  the  air  of  a  prison. 

The  royal  family  which  inhabits  this  palace  has  the 
best  of  all  testimonies  in  its  favour,  that  of  the  peo- 
ple. Its  younger  branches,  indeed,  nephews  of  the 
king,  are  persons  of  whom  scarcely  any  body  thinks 
of  speaking  at  all  ;  but  the  king  himself  is  the  object 
of  universal  reverence  and  affect  ion.  The  Saxons, 
though  too   sensible   to  boast  of  his   talents,   maintain 


THE  ROYAL  FAMILY.  14^ 

that  he  is  the  most  upright  prince  in  Europe  ;  and  all 
allow  him  those  moral  quaHlies  which  most  easily  se- 
cure the  affection  of  a  German  people,  and  best  de- 
serve the  afFection  of  any  people.  Though  Napoleon 
flattered  their  pride  by  treating  their  country  with 
great  resj)ect,  and  even  restored,  in  some  measure,  the 
Polish  supremacy  of  the  Electorate,  by  creating  for  it 
the  Grand  Duchy  of  Warsaw,  they  are  no  fonder  of 
France  than  their  brethren;  but  neither  do  they  con- 
ceal their  grudge  against  the  powers  who  punished 
Saxony  for  Napoleon's  kindness,  by  giving  so  much  of 
its  territory  to  Prussia.  Germans  are  the  very  last 
people  with  whom  partitioning  schemes  should  be 
tried,  for  they  are  the  very  last  that  will  amalgamate 
themselves  with  another.  Attachment  to  his  native 
prince  is  part  of  a  German's  nature  ;  no  man  finds  so 
much  ditficulty  in  conquering  old  atiections  and  pre- 
judices. 

For  a  century  the  Saxons  have  been  accustomed  to 
have  a  king  of  a  ditferent  religion  from  their  own. 
The  electoral  crown,  which,  from  the  first  thesis  of 
Luther,  had  been  the  boast  and  bulwark  of  the  Re- 
formation, was  regained  for  the  church  of  Rome  by 
the  throne  of  Poland.  The  difference,  however,  does 
not  seem  to  produce  any  cause  of  discontent  or  com- 
plaint, except  that  the  most  important  personages 
about  the  court  are  naturally  Catholics.  The  royal 
family  is  surrounded  by  them,  and,  it  is  asserted,  is 
studiously  kept  in  the  trammels  of  the  priesthood. 
There  is  no  intolerance,  no  exclusion  of  Protestants; 
but  it  is  not  possible  for  so  devout  and  priest-ridden  a 
Catholic  as  the  king  is,  to  consider  the  heretical  among 
his  courtiers  as  equally  fit  companions  for  the  royal 
presence,  and  depositaries  of  the  royal  confidence, 
f  with  the  orthodox ;  and  it  is  just  as  little  possible, 
that  the  Catholic  priesthood  should  not  govern  ab- 
solutely so  devout  a  king.  Protestantism  suffers,  too, 
in  another  way.  Where  any  portion  of  the  Roman 
19 


146  DRESDEN. 

hierarchy,  perhaps  of  any  hierarchy,  nestles,  the  spirit 
of  proselytlsni  is  immediately  aroused.  Where  it  rules 
a  court,  and  basks  in  the  light  of  royal  favour,  it  arms 
itself  with  much  more  powerful  w^eapons  than  argu- 
ment. As  the  Elector  of  Saxony  was  converted  by 
the  prospect  of  a  new  crown,  his  subjects  may  be  just 
as  easily  converted  by  the  prospect  of  facilitating  their 
advancement  to  honours,  and  offices,  and  salaries. 

In  one  thing  the  king  and   his  capital  never  have 
agreed,  and   never    will    agree  ;   the   king   loves   quiet 
and  priests,  his  subjects  love  mirth  and  ballet-dancers. 
This  people,   abounding  in   corn   and   wine,  living  in  a 
laughing  and    beautiful  country,  and  infected,   in  part, 
by  the   crowds  of  strangers,  who  flock  together  to  ad- 
mire   the  riches  of  their  capital,   are  fond  of  society 
and  amusement.     They  are    more  light-hearted,  they 
have  more    easy   gaiety  about   them,   than  the  rest  of 
their  countrymen  ;  nor  is    it  soiled  by  the  gross  sensu- 
ality of  Vienna.     The   king  has  no  likmg  for  aiiy   of 
these    things;  the   passing   pleasures   of  life    have    no 
charm  for  him.     This  does  not  arise  from  his  advanc- 
ed   age,  for  it  has  always  been  so  ;  it  is  in  his  charac- 
ter, and  has  been  greatly  fostered  by  feelings  of  devo- 
tion, degenerating  almost  into  the  ascetic.     The  court 
of  Dresden   indulges  so  little  in    pomp,  or  even  in  the 
ordinary    amusements  of  fashionable  society,  that  one 
could  scarcely   discover  it  to  exist,  were    it  not  for  the 
royal  box  in   the  theatre,  and  the  grenadier   guards  at 
the  gate  of  the  palace.     The  Protestant  gaiety  of  the 
people   does  not    scruple  to  lay   the    blame  of  this  se- 
questered  life    on  the   priests.      In  particular,  they  al- 
lege that  the  ecclesiastics,  to  insure  the  continuance  of 
their  domination,   have  educated    the  princes,  not  like 
young  men,  but  like  old  women; — kept  back,  no  doubt, 
from  much   that  is  bad,  but  likewise  from   much  more 
that  is  good  in  the  world ;  allowed  to  grow  up  in  igno- 
rance  of  every  thing  but  what    it  pleased  their  bigot- 
ted  and  ghostly   instructors  they   should  know  ;  and 


THE  CHURCHES.  147 

thus  bent  into  an  unnatural  quietude  of  life,  and  pas- 
siveness  of  characier,  which  are  perhaps  not  a  whit 
more  desirable  than  a  certain  degree  of  irregularity. 
This  is  not  the  social  character  that  will  captirate  the 
Saxons.  Aiiij^ustus  II.  was,  boih  in  Poland  and  Saxony, 
the  most  splendid  of  sovereigns  ;  under  hini,  Dresden 
was  "the  Masque  of  Germany."  Augustus  HI.  loved 
pleasure  to  extravagance.  The  present  king  has  hur- 
ried himself  and  his  court  into  the  other  extreme.  It 
was  reckoned  no  small  triumph,  a  few  years  ago,  that 
the  royal  countenance  was  obtained  to  a  mimic  tourna- 
ment, at  which  the  young  nobility,  armed  from  the 
antiquated  treasures  of  the  Rustkammer^  tilted  valiant- 
ly, in  the  arena  of  the  riding-school,  at  stutied  Turks, 
and  fleshed  tlieir  maiden  sabres  in  pasteboard  Sara- 
cens. If  Saxonv  has  a  minister  at  tlie  Sublime  Porte, 
how  would  he  excuse  his  master,  should  the  Great 
Turk  get  into  a  great  passion,  as  he  very  reasonably 
might  do,  at  such  amusements  being  allowed  in  the 
court  of  an  ally  ? 

I  observed  nothing  particularly  worthy  of  notice  in 
the  churches  of  Dresden,  either  in  their  architecture 
or  ornaments.  Every  body  toils  vou  to  admire  the 
Frauenkirche^  as  being  built  after  the  model  of  St. 
Peter's  ;  and  it  is  like  St.  Peter's  in  so  far  as  both 
have  cupolas,  but  no  farther.  I  doubt  not  but  the 
dome  of  St.  Peter's  might  be  placed,  like  an  extin- 
guisher, over  the  whole  crowded  octangular  pile  of 
the  Frauenkirche. 

The  Catholic  church,  as  being  devoted  to  the  reli- 
gion of  a  very  devout  royal  family,  is  that  on  which 
most  splendour  has  been  lavished.  It  was  built,  in 
the  earlier  part  of  the  last  century,  on  a  design  of  the 
Italian  Chiaveri.  The  quantity  of  ornament,  and  the 
waved  facade,  with  its  interrupted  cornices  and  broken 
pediments,  announce  at  once  the  degenerated  taste 
which  had  appeared  in  Italy  nearly  a  hundred  years 
before,  and  erected  such  piles  as  the  Salute  at  Venice, 


148  DRESDEN. 

and  the  church  Delia  Sapienza  in  Rome,  which  dis- 
fififures  one  side  of  a  quadrangle  designed  by  Michel 
Angelo.  The  building  gains  by  its  situation ;  lor  it 
faces  the  Elbe,  just  at  the  entrance  of  the  bridge,  un- 
encumbered by  any  adjoining  edifice,  except  a  black, 
covered  gallery,  certainly  an  unseemly  appendage, 
which,  for  the  convenieiice  of  the  royal  family,  con- 
nects it  with  the  })alace.  The  elevations  of  the  lower 
part  are  harmonious,  and  the  eiFect  of  the  whole  is 
gorgeous;  but  there  is  a  total  uant  of  simplicity  and 
grandeur,  and  the  parapets  are  bristled  round  with 
grim  sandstone  saints.  The  more  simple  and  elegant 
form  of  thu  interior  is  injured  by  the  galleries  lor  the 
accommodation  of  the  c(  urt.  The  royal  pew,  quite 
caped  in  glass,  is  literall)  a  hot-house. 

It  was  only  here  that  I  observed  that  decent  cus- 
tom strictly  enforced,  (which  was  universal  in  the  ear- 
lier ages  of  the  church,)  of  making  all  females  take 
their  places  on  one  side,  and  all  males  on  the  other. 
During  mass,  domestics  of  the  royal  household,  armed 
with  enormous  batons,  patrole  the  nave  and  aisles  to 
enforce  the  regulation,  and  remove  all  pretences  as 
well  as  opportunities  of  scandal.  The  system  of  sepa- 
ration was  not  observed,  however,  above  stairs,  among 
the  adherents  of  the  court ;  there,  the  sheep  and  goats 
were  praying  side  by  side.  This  decorum,  too,  has  its 
oriojin  in  the  purity  of  the  royal  character,  though  tru*- 
ly  the  citizens  of  the  capital  seem  to  value  this  most 
estimable  virtue  much  more  lowly  than  it  deserves. 
His  majesty  banished  from  the  Temple  of  Venus  at 
Pilnitz,  the  [)ortraits  of  ladies  celebrated  for  their 
beauty  and  gallantries,  which  had  given  the  apartment 
its  name;  and  he  retires  every  night  to  his  lonely 
couch  in  the  conviction  that  Vesta  presides  over  his 
capital.  It  is  most  honourable  to  himself,  that,  both 
by  his  own  example  and  by  police  regulations,  he  has 
done  all  in  his  power  to  render  it  a  fittir.g  abode  for 
the  Goddess ;  but  it  is  a  pity  that  he  should  be  so  ve* 


THE  CHURCHES.  149 

rj  much  deceived  as  to  the  effect  of  either.  At  th^ 
same  time,  debauchery  has  not  the  unblushing  notorie- 
ty of  Vienna  or  Munich. 

As  all  Gern)any  praises  the  music  in  this  church,  it 
must  be  good,  for  the  Gorn.ans  are  judges  cf  music; 
but,  though  I  heard  it  in  Easter,  when  the  sacred  har- 
mony of  Catholics  [-uts  forih  all  its  powers,  I  niust  con- 
fess, that  little  pleasure  was  derived  from  the  noise  of 
a  score  of  fiddles,  which  the  organ,  though  built  by 
Silbcrman,  could  not  coi.quer,  and  the  voices  of  the 
ciioir,  though  adorned  by  that  of  an  Eunuch,  could  not 
sweeten.  It  is  not  merely  the  casual  associations 
which  may  fill  the  head  with  reels  and  country  dances, 
as  if  it  were  intended  to 

Make  the  soul  dance  upon  a  jig  to  Heaven ; 

these  are  instruments  whose  tones,  to  an  untutored  ear, 
at  least,  do  not  harmonize  with  feelings  of  solemnity 
and  devotion;  and  the  crowd  of  them  usually  pressed 
into  the  service  of  the  church,  takes  all  distinctness 
and  etfect  from  the  vocal  music,  which  in  reality  be- 
comes the  accompaniment,  instead  of  bcirif^  the  princi- 
pal part  of  the  composition.  After  hearing  Mozart's 
Kequiem,  for  example,  performed  ai  Berlin,  with  the 
full  complement  of  fiddles,  so  much  did  it  gain  in  effect, 
merely  from  their  absence,  that  I  could  scarcely  recog- 
nize the  composition  when  given  in  Vienna  simply  by 
the  choir  and  the  organ,  exce})t  where  the  trumpet, 
echoing  along  the  lofty  roof  of  Si.  Stephen,  seemed  to 
send  its  notes  from  the  clouds,  as  it  bore  up  the  ac- 
companiment at. 

Tuba  nriirum  ppRrpfens  sonum, 
Per  sepiilchr.i  rogicnum, 
Coget  omnes  ante  tbronum. 

Allegri's  famed  JlJiserere^  as  sung  in  the  Sistine  chapel 
at  Rome,  during  Easter,  justifies  the  belief  that,  for 
purposes  of  devotion,  the  unaided  huuian  voice  is  the 


150  -  DRESDEN. 

most  impressive  of  al!  instruments.  If  such  a  choir  as 
that  of  his  Holiness  could  always  be  commanded,  the 
organ  itself  might  be  dispensed  with.  This,  however, 
is  no  fair  sample  of  the  powers  of  vocal  sacred  music; 
and  those  who  are  most  alive  to  the  ''  concord  of  sweet 
sounds"  forget  that,  in  the  mixture  of  leeling  produced 
bj  a  scene  so  imposing  as  the  Sistine  chapel  presents 
on  such  an  occasion,  it  is  difficult  to  attribute  to  the 
music  only  its  own  share  in  the  overwhelming  etfect. 
The  Christian  world  is  in  mourning ;  the  throne  of  the 
Pontiff,  stripped  of  all  its  honours,  and  uncovered  of 
its  royal  canopy,  is  degraded  to  the  simple  elbow-chair 
of  an  aged  priest.  The  Pontiff  himself,  and  the  con- 
gregated dignitaries  of  the  church,  divested  of  all 
earthly  pomp,  kneel  before  the  cross  in  the  unostenta- 
tious garb  of  their  religious  orders.  As  evening  sinks, 
and  the  tapers  are  extinguished  one  after  another,  at 
different  stages  of  the  service,  the  fading  light  falls 
ever  dimmer  and  dimmer  on  the  reverend  figures. 
The  prophets  and  saints  of  Michel  Angelo  look 
down  from  the  ceiling  on  the  pious  worshippers  be- 
neath; while  the  living  figures  of  his  Last  Judgment, 
in  every  variety  of  iniernal  suffering  and  celestial  em- 
joyment,  gradually  vanish  in  the  gathering  shade,  as  if 
the  scene  of  horror  had  closed  forever  on  the  one,  and 
the  other  had  quitted  the  darkness  of  earth  for  a 
brighter  world.  Is  it  wonderful  that,  in  such  circum- 
stances, such  music  as  that  famed  Miserere^  sung  by 
such  a  choir,  should  shake  the  soul  even  of  a  Calvin- 
ist? 

Except,  perhaps,  the  Viennese,  no  people  of  Ger- 
many are  so  fond  of  being  out  of  doors  as  the  Saxons 
of  Dresden,  for  none  of. its  capitals  displays  so  many 
temptations  to  allure  them;  wood  and  water,  moun- 
tain and  plain,  precipice  and  valley,  corn  and  wine,  pa- 
lace and  cottage,  tossed  together  in  bright  confusion, 
and  glowing  in  a  climate  which,  on  this  side  of  the 
Alps,  may  well  be  called  genial.     The  rising  ground* 


THE  SAXON  SWITZERLAND.  iBi 

which  form  the  circle  to  the  south-east,  and  were  the 
principal  scene  of    the    combats    and    bombardments 
that    terminated  in  the  retreat  of  the  French  armj   to 
Leipzig,  are  the  only  part  of  the  environs  that  have 
any  thin^;  like   tamcness    in    their  character.      Where 
they   slope  down    towards   the    town,   and   not    much 
more  than  a    mile  from   the    walls,  stands  the  lonely 
monument  of  Moreau,  on  the  spot  where  he   fell.     It 
is  merely  a  square  block  of  granite,  surrounded  below 
by  large  unhewn  stones,  and  bearing  on  its  upper  sur- 
face, a  helmet,  a  sword,  and  a  laurel  chaplet.     The 
brief  inscription,  "  The  Horo  Moreau  fell  here  by   the 
side  of  Alexander,"  is  worth  mentioning,  merely  to  no- 
tice   the   audacity  with   which  some  ungenerous  spirit 
has  dared    to   violate  it.     An  unknown  but  deliberate 
hand  has  tried  to  efface  the  word  Hero,  and  has  carv- 
ed above   it,  as  regularly  and  as  dee  pi  v  as  the  rest  of 
the    inscr;p*'or,   the    v^uid    I'rauui.      80  professionally 
has  it  been  performed,  that  it  has  not  been  possible  to 
obliterate    entirely  this  degrading  exploit  of  cowardice 
and    malignity.     The    most    partial   admirers    of  that 
great  man  may  be  allowed    to  wish,  that,  after  so  ho- 
nourable a  life,  he   had   fallen   on   a  less   questionable 
field;  but  the  rancour  which  could  desecrate    his  sim- 
ple   monument,   was    infinitely    more    detestable    than 
even  the  imperial  enmity,  which  honoured  with  its  ha- 
tred his  talents   and    virtues    when    alive.     A    French 
gentleman,  on  being  asked  at  Dresden,  whether  he  had 
yet  visited  the  monument  of  his  countryman,  answer- 
ed with  passionate  vivacity,  "  Non ;  il  n'etoit   pas  mon 
compatnote ;  car  moi,  je  suis  Francais."    The  French- 
man who  is  ashamed  of  Moreau  is  a  man  of  whom  no- 
body cari  be  proud. 

The  most  remarkable  part  of  the  neighbourhood,  a 
district  that  would  be  remarkable  in  any  country,  is 
the  Sachsische  Schweitz,  or  Saxon  Switzerland  ;  and  it 
is  visited  with  astonishment,  even  after  the  wonders 
of  the  real  Switzerland.     The  latter,  indeed,  contains 


15ft  DRESDEN. 

infinitely  finer  and  more  stupendous  things ;  for  here 
are  no  g!aciers,  no  snowy  summits  like  Mont  Blanc  or 
the  Jungfrau,  no  walls  of  rock  lost  In  the  clouds  like 
the  Wetterhorner ;  but  Switzerland  contains  hoihlng 
of  the  same  kind.  Only  Adersbai'h,  on  the  frontier 
between  Silesia  anl  B  jaomia,  approaches  it,  and  Aders- 
bach  is  still  more  sinj^ular.  The  Saxon  Switzerland 
commences  about  eight  miles  above  Dresden,  and  fol- 
lows the  course  of  the  Elbe  upwards,  lying  among  the 
mountains  which  form  the  boundary  between  Bohemia 
and  Saxony.  A  short  way  above  the  capital,  Pilnltz, 
a  royal  residence  of  historical  notoriety,  but  remarka- 
ble in  no  other  respect,  reflects  itself  in  the  waters  of 
the  Elbe.  About  four  miles  farther  up,  the  valley 
closes ;  the  mountains  become  more  lofty  and  bare  ; 
the  majestic  river,  quitting  at  length  the  rugged  and 
mountainous  course  which  has  hemmed  him  in  from 
his  birth  in  the  mountains  of  the  Giant,  and  destined 
to  visitj  tl.r- uglioiii  tiic  rest  iji  iiis  career,  only  scenes 
of  Industry  and  fertility,  comes  forth  rejoicing  from 
the  gorges  which  you  are  about  to  enter.  From  this 
point,  up  to  the  frontiers  of  Bohemia,  the  rocks  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  the  river,  principally  on  the  right 
bank,  consisting  of  a  coarse-grained  sandstone,  are  cut 
in  all  directions  into  frightful  gorges,  as  if  the  chisel 
had  beet]  used  to  hew  passages  through  them.  Thsy 
should  rather  be  called  lanes,  so  narrow  are  they,  so 
deeply  sunk,  and  so  sm)v)thly  perpendicular  do  the 
gi2:antic  walls  of  rock  rise  on  botii  sides.  The  walls 
themselves  are  cut  vertically  into  separate  masses,  by 
narrow  openings  reaching  from  the  summit  to  the  very 
bottom,  as  if  a  cement,  w  lich  once  united  them,  had 
been  washed  away.  Tliese  perpendicular  masses,  again, 
are  divided  and  grooved  horizontally  into  layers,  or  ap-# 
parent  layers,  like  block^'egularly  laid  upon  each  other, 
to  form  the  wall.  The  extremities  are  seldom  sharp  or 
angular,  but  almost  always  rounded,  betraying  the  conti- 
nued action  of  water.    They  generally  terminate  in  some 


% 


THE  SAXON  SWITZERLAND.  15S 

singular  form.  Some  have  a  huge  rounded  mass  re- 
chning  on  their  summit,  which  a[)pears  scarcely  broad 
enough  to  poise  it  ;  others  have  a  more  regular  mass 
laid  upon  tliem,  hke  the  astragal  of  a  Doric  pillar; 
others  assume  the  form  of  inverted  pyramids,  increasing 
in  breadth  as  they  shoot  higher  into  the  air.  Occasion- 
ally they  present  a  still  more  singular  appearance  ;  for, 
after  tapering  in  a  conical  form,  to  a  certain  elevation, 
they  begin  to  dilate  again  as  they  rise  higher,  as  if  an 
inverted,  truncated  cone  were  placed  on  a  right  trun- 
cated cone,  resembling  exactly,  but  on  an  infinitely 
greater  scale,  what  often  occurs  in  caverns,  where  the 
descending  stalactite  rests  on  an  ascending  stalagmite. 

The  abyss  which  lies  deep  sunk  behind  the  summit 
called  the  Bastey,  though  not  so  regular  as  some 
others,  is  the  most  wonderful  of  all,  in  the  horrid 
boldness  and  fantastic  forms  of  its  rocks.  The  Ottor 
walder  Grund  is  so  narrow,  and  its  walls  so  lofty,  that 
many  parts  of  it  can  never  have  felt  sunshine.  I 
trode,  through  the  greater  part  of  it,  on  snow  and  ice, 
when  all  above  was  warm  and  cheery,  and  butterflies 
were  sporting  over  its  frozen  bosom.  Some  small  cas- 
cades were  literally  hanging  frozen  in  their  fall.  In 
one  place  the  walls  are  not  more  than  four  feet  asun- 
der. Some  huge  blocks,  in  their  course  from  the 
summit,  have  been  jammed  in  between  them,  and 
form  a  natural  roof,  beneath  which  you  must  creep 
along  above  the  brook  on  planks,  if  the  brook  be 
small,  or  wading  in  water,  if  it  be  swollen  ;  for  the 
rivulet  occupies  the  whole  space  between  the  walls 
in  this  narrow  passage,  which  goes  under  the  name  of 
*'  Hell."  When,  in  one  of  these  lanes,  you  find  an 
alley  striking  off  on  one  side,  and,  having  squeezed 
your  body  through  it,  another  similar  lane,  which  you 
soon  find  crossed  by  another  of  the  same  sort,  you  might 
b<;lieve  yourself  traversing  the  rude  model  of  some 
gigantic  city,  or  visiting  the  ruined  abodes  of  the  true 
20 


154  DRESDEN. 

terrae  filii,*  When,  again,  from  some  elevated  point, 
you  overlook  the  whole  mass,  and  see  these  stiff  bare 
rocks  risino:  from  the  earth,  manifestin>r,  tfiou^h  now 
disjoined,  that  they  once  formed  one  body,  you  Uii^ht 
think  yourself  gazing  on  the  skeleton  of  a  perished 
world,  all  the  softer  parts  of  which  have  mouldered 
away,  and  left  only  the  naked,  indestructible  frame- 
work. 

The  Bastey^  or  Bastion,  is  the  name  2:iven  to  one  of 
the  largest  masses  which  rise  close  by  the  river  on  the 
right  bank.  One  narrow  block,  on  the  \ery  sumrni^ 
projects  into  the  air.  Perched  on  this,  not  on,  but  (  e- 
yond  the  brink  of  the  precipice,  you  command  a  pros- 
pect w^hich,  in  its  kind,  is  unique  in  Europe.  Yuu  ho-  / 
ver,  on  the  pinnacle,  at  an  elevation  of  more  than  eight 
hundred  feet  above  the  Elbe,  which  sweeps  round  the 
bottom  of  the  precipice.  Behind,  and  up  along  the 
river  on  the  same  bank,  rise  similar  precipitous  cliffs, 
cut  and  intersected  like  those  already  described.  From 
the  farther  bank,  the  plain  gradually  elevates  itself  into 
an  irregular  amphitheatre,  terminated  by  a  lofty,  but  . 
rounded  range  of  mountains.  The  striking  feature  is, 
that,  in  the  bosom  of  this  amphitheatre,  a  plain  of  the 
most  varied  beauty,  huge  columnar  hills  start  up  at 
once  from  the  ground,  at  great  distances  from  each 
other,  overlooking,  in  lonely  and  solemn  grandeur,  each 
its  own  portion  of  the  domain.  They  are  monuments 
which  the  Elbe  has  left  standing  to  commemorate  his 
triumph  over  their  less  hardy  kindred.  The  most  re- 
markable among  them  are  the  Lilienstein  and  Konig- 
5^e^w,  which  tower  nearly  in  the  centre  of  the  picture, 
to  a  height  of  about  twelve  hundred  feet  above  the  le- 

*  And  once  they  bad  inhabitants.  Amon^  the  loftiest  and  most 
inaccessible  of  the  cliffs  which  overlook  the  Elbe,  remains  of  the 
works  of  liumah  hands  are  still  visible.  A  band  of  robbers,  by 
laying  blocks  across  the  chasms,  had  formed  bri(!o-es,  frail  in  shiic- 
ture,  and  easily  removed  when  security  required  it ;  and,  in  the 
iipper  floors,  as  it  were,  of  this  natural  city,  long  set  regular  power 
at  defiance. 


THE  SAXON  SWITZERLAND.  155 

vel  of  the  Elbe.  They  rise  perpendicularly  from  a  slop- 
ing base,  formed  oi  debris,  and  now  covered  with  natu- 
ral wood.  The  access  to  the  summit  is  so  difficult,  that 
an  Elector  of  S.jxony  and  Kin^  of  Poland  thought  the 
exj)loit  which  he  performed  in  scramblmg  to  the  top  of 
the  Liliensiein  deservmg  of  being  commemorated  by 
arj  inscription.  Tiie  access  to  the  Konigstein  is  artifi- 
cial, for  it  has  long  been  a  fortress,  bl  \  from  the 
strength  of  its  situation,  is  still  a  virgin  one.  Besides 
these,  the  giants  of  the  territory,  the  plain  is  studded 
with  many  other  columtiar  eminences  of  the  same  ge- 
neral character,  though  on  a  smaller  scale,  and  they  all 
bear,  from  time  immemorial,  their  particular  legends — 
for  tiie  mountains  of  Saxony  and  Bohemia  are  the  na- 
tive country  of  tale-telling  tradition,  the  cradle  of 
Gnomes  and  Kobolds.  In  the  deep  rents  and  gloomy 
recesses  of  the  Lilienstein,  hosts  of  spirits  still  watch 
over  concealed  treasures.  A  holy  nun,  miraculously 
transported  from  the  irregularities  of  her  convent,  to 
the  summit  of  the  JS^onncnsicin,  that  she  might  spend 
her  days  in  prayer  and  purity  in  its  caverns,  is  com- 
memorated in  the  name  of  the  rock  ;  and  the  Jung- 
Jcrnsprnng,  or  Leap  of  the  Virgin,  perpetuates  the  me- 
mory of  the  Saxon  maid,  who,  when  pursued  by  a  bru- 
tal lustllng,  threw  herself  from  the  brink  of  its  hideous 
precipice,  to  die  unpolluted. 


CHAPTER  V. 


DRESDEN'. 


%  THE  AUTS — LITERATURE — CRIMINAL  JUSTICE — THE 

GOVERNMENT. 

Dresden  has  the  advantaa;e  of  being  lively  and   en- 
tertaining at  all  seasons  of  the  year,  though  the  sort  of 


156  DRESDEN. 

persons  who  produce  and  enjoy  Its  pleasures  vary  most 
sensibly  with  the  state  of  the  thermometer.  The  win- 
ter entertainments  of  the  higher  ranks  are  just  what 
they  are  elsewhere.  Those  who  find  halls,  routs,  and 
card-parties  dull  in  other  countries,  will  not  find  them 
a  whit  less  so  in  Saxony.  The  middle  and  lower  class- 
es seek  their  pleasures  in  the  theatre  ;  for  no  rank  in 
Germany  reckons  play-going  a  sin.  Tlie  king  himself 
is  so  extravagantly  fond  of  music,  that,  besides  a  regu- 
lar troop  of  actors,  he  supports  two  operatic  compa- 
nies, one  Italian  and  the  other  German,  and  has  at  the 
head  of  his  chapel  Weber,  the  first  of  the  living  thea- 
trical composers  of  Germany,  and  Morlacchi,  who  (ills 
a  very  respectable  rank  after  the  despotic  Rossini. 
Spring  comes  on,  and  the  native  heroes  of  the  w  inter 
disa|)pear,  to  be  replaced  by  strangers.  The  great  bo- 
dy of  the  citizens  take  their  turn  in  the  cycle  of  amuse- 
ment, and  take  it  out  of  doors.  On  the  first  of  May, 
as  regularly  as  the  year  comes  round,  the  royal  family 
removes  to  Pilnitz.  The  nobility  and  gentry,  all,  in 
short,  who  are  not  too  poor,  Ay  to  their  country-seats, 
or  the  baths  of  Bohemia  ;  the  superb  orangery  is 
brought  forth  from  its  winter  covering,  and  set  to  blos- 
som round  the  Zwinger^  in  the  open  air;  the  picture- 
gallery  is  thrown  open  ;  Bottiger  commences  his  pre- 
lections on  ancient  statues,  in  the  collection  of  antiques; 
foreigners  crowd  into  the  city  from  all  parts  of  Europe  ; 
and  Dresden,  with  its  laughing  sky,  climate,  scenery, 
and  people,  becomes,  for  a  season,  the  coffee-house  of 
Germany. 

It  is  to  its  collection  of  pictures  that  Dresden  is  in- 
debted for  the  reputation  which  it  enjoys  as  the  centre 
of  the  arts  in  Germany.  Nogallery,  on  this  side  of  the 
Alps,  deserves,  as  a  whole,  to  be  placed  above  it.  Mu- 
nich is  richer  in  the  choice  works  of  Rembrandt,  and, 
since  the  acquisition  of  Nurnberg,  likewise  in  those  of 
Durer ;  Brussels  can  show  much  finer  pictures  of  Ru- 
bens ;  Potsdam  some  splendid  historical  pieces  of  Van- 


THE  GALLERY.  15r 

dyke  ;  and  Paris,  among  the  straggling  glories  that  still 
remain  to  the  Louvre,  more  perfect  saiiijjles  of  one  or 
two  of  the  Itahan  masters;  but,  as  a  collectiun  of  ex- 
cellent pictures,  in  all  styles,  none  of  then)  can  claim 
superiority  over  the  royal  gallery  of  Dresden.  Tiic 
Flemish  and  German  schools  had  been  gradually  accu- 
mulating, especially  under  the  magnihcence  >vl»lch 
overwhelmed  Saxony  fiom  the  mouicrit  her  electors 
mounted  the  throne  of  Poland  ;  but  it  was  poor  in  the 
works  of  the  Italian  masters,  till  Augustus  111.  raised 
it  at  once  to  its  present  eminence,  by  [)urchaslrig,  for 
about  L.  180,000,  (1,200,000  rix  dollars,)  the  whole 
ducal  gallery  of  JN'lodena,  which  contained,  among  oth- 
ers, the  far-famed  Correggios.  A  good  specimen  of 
Raphael  was  still  awanting,  and,  for  something  more,  it 
is  said,  than  L.  8,000,  (i 7,000  ducats,)  a  convent  at 
Piacenza  was  prevailed  on  to  part  with  his  Madonna 
di  San  Slsto,  which,  I  suppose,  gold  could  not  now  pur- 
chase. While  lino^erinoamona:  these  pfreat  productions 
of  a  captivating  art,  it  is  likewise  a  pleasing  leeling, 
that  they  have  had  the  rare  fortune  to  be  treated  with 
reverence  by  e\ery  hostile  hand.  Frederick  bombard- 
ed Dresden,  battered  down  its  churches,  and  laid  its 
streets  in  ruin,  but  ordered  his  cannon  and  mortars  to 
keep  clear  of  the  picture  gallery.  He  entered  as  a 
conqueror,  levied  the  taxes,  administered  the  govern- 
ment, and,  with  an  aiTectation  of  humility,  asked  per- 
mission of  the  caj)tive  Electress  to  visit  the  gallery  as 
a  stranger.  Napoleon's  policy,  too,  led  him  to  treat 
Saxony  with  much  consideration,  and  was  the  ^lardian 
angel  of  her  picAires.  Not  one  of  them  made  the 
journey  to  Paris. 

The  Outer  Gallery,*  as  it  is  called,  is  entirely  filled 

*  The  nrran^ement  of  the  building  is  fonicuhnt  peculiar;  it  is 
one  square  within  another,  as  if  formed  by  dividin^^  a  very  broad 
gallery  running  round  a  square,  by  buildinfj;  within  it  a  partition 
parallel  to  the  sides  of  the  square.  The  ho-hts  of  the  outer  !=q;i;'.rc 
are  from  the  street,  those  of  the  inner  from  the   court  which  the 


158  DRESDEN. 

with  the  productions  of  the  northern  schools,  and  dis- 
plays, in  an  immense  number  of  pictures,  all  the  merits 
and  deficiencies  of  the  masters  of  Germany,  Flanders^ 
and  Holland.  The  principle  of  these  schools  A^as,  not 
to  embellish  nature,  but  to  imitate  her  with  a'most  li- 
teral precision.  Animals,  and  ol>Jects  of  still  life  ;  the 
ingenious  effects  of  artificial,  or  the  chequered  play  of 
natural  lights  and  shades  ;  busy  figures,  surrounded  by 
household  goods,  or  the  implements  of  a  profession  ; 
the  grotesque  groupes,  and  gross  dissipations  of  a  fair  ; 
the  hard-favoured,  but  expressive  countenances,  the 
ale-jugs,  and  low  indelicacies  of  carousing  boors,  were 
transferred  to  the  canvass  with  an  accuracy  of  imita- 
tion, and  patience  of  finishing,  which  have  never  been 
rivalled.  Such  subjects  scarcely  admitted  of  embel- 
lisiiraent ;  what  existed  before  the  painter's  eyes  must 
be  copied  "  severely  true  ;"  no  beau  ideal  sprung  into 
life  beneath  the  pencil  of  the  artist,  creating  upon  the 
canvas  forms  which  perhaps  never  existed  in  nature, 
but  which,  nevertheless,  are  at  once  recognised  to  be 
the  perfection  of  nature.  It  would  be  absurd  to  sup- 
pose that  all  the  boors  of  Teniers  are  portraits,  and 
all  his  cottage  or  wedding  scenes  taken  from  the  life  ; 
so  far  he  must  have  proceeded  on  the  same  principle 
as  if  he  had  been  composing  a  Madonna,  and  made  his 
boors  and  vv^eddings  what  they  possibly  never  Avere, 
but  yet  easily  might  be;  but  forms  of  ideal  beauty  or 
dignity,  and  the  expression  of  the  higher  passions,  were 
not  regularly  within  the  sphere,  and  never  constituted 
the  character  of  the  school.     Even  those  masters  who 

sqnnrc  cont«iins.  The  inner  gallery  is  set  apart  for  the  Italian,  and 
the  outer  is  filled  with  the  ultramontane  schools — using  ultramon- 
tane in  the  Italian  sense  of  the  term.  As  the  lights  come  from  only 
one  side,  care  has  been  taken  to  place  all  the  good  pictures  on  the 
opposite  side — apparently  a  very  obvious  arrangement,  yet  one,  the 
neglect  of  which,  in  many  private  collections,  spoils  many  excel- 
lent pictures.  The  best  of  all  lights  is  that  which  comes  from 
above,  as  partly  in  the  lYibuiie  of  Florence,  and  entirely  in  the 
upper  room  at  Bologiia^ 


THE  GALLERY.  159 

soiiorht  immortality  in  another  path,  Rubens,  for  exam- 
ple, or  Kenjbiandt,  seldom  approach  this  lofty  and 
captivating  ideah  Tliey  compose  their  pictures  with 
skill,  they  seduce  the  eye  by  [peculiar  charuis  of  colour- 
ing, and  they  may  be  unrivalled  in  the  artificial  manage- 
ment of  light  and  shade  ;  yet  is  the  effect  produced  by 
their  most  finished  {)ictures  not  only  specifically  diffe- 
rent from  what  we  feel  when  contemplating  the  Ma- 
donna of  Raphael,  the  Saviour  or  Si.  Jerome  of  Cor- 
reggio,  Fra  Bartolomeo's  St.  Mark,  Guido's  Aurora,  or 
Titian's  Assumption  of  the  Virgin,  but  is  it  not  one  of 
a  more  prosaic  nature,  less  imposing  to  the  imagination, 
less  elevating  and  interesting  both  to  feeling  and  to 
taste  ? 

The  pictures  of  Teniers,  Ostade,  and  Gerard  Dow, 
the  northern  landscapes  of  Ruisdael,  the  vivid  groupes 
of  Wouvermann,  with  his  never-failing  gvey  horse,  are 
all  among  the  most  successful  and  characteristic  pro- 
ductions of  these  celebrated  masters.  In  Ruisdael's 
famous  Hunt,  earth  and  sky,  v^ood  and  water,  speak  so 
feelingly  the  cold,  drizzling  haze  of  a  raw  autumnal 
morning  in  a  northern  region,  that  the  spectator  is 
happy,  on  turning  from  the  picture,  to  find  himself  in 
sunshine.  Dow  and  Ostade  could  not  compete  with 
Teniers  in  effect  of  grouping  and  expression  of  vulgar 
character,  but  they  are  at  least  his  equals  in  minute- 
ness of  finishing,  and  surpass  him  in  delicacy  and  vi- 
vacity of  colouring.  There  is  a  beautiful  small  picture 
by  Gerard  Dow,  representing  a  hermit  at  prayer  be- 
fore a  crucifix,  at  the  door  of  his  hut.  A  book  lies 
open  before  him,  and  so  industriously  is  every  part 
finished,  that  you  actually  see  the  letters  glimmering 
through  the  paper  from  the  opposite  page.  The  most 
wonderful  instance  of  this  finishing  and  colouring,  be- 
cause it  contains  the  most  minute  and  heterogeneous 
objects,  is  an  alchyinist's  work-shop  of  Teniers.  Ta- 
bles, stools,  chairs,  furnaces,  alembics  of  various  sorts, 
dead  and  dried  fishes,  stuffed  beasts,  living  mice,  boxes 


I6i  DRESDEN. 

of  wood  and  paper,  vials  of  white,  and  bottles  of  greey 
fi^lass;  ifi  short,  a!l  kinds  of  hjniber,  utensils,  and  in- 
struments, are  scattered  about  in  the  most  grotesque 
confusion,  and  every  single  object  is  in  form  and  colour- 
ing the  most  deceivuig  imitation  of  nature  imaginable. 
His  Temptation  of  St.  Anthony,  though  possessing 
much  of  the  same  excellence,  is  not  equal  to  those  of 
Hall  Breughel.^  The  monsters  are  of  the  same  kind, 
bat  it  wants  the  fantastic  richness  of  Breughel — all 
the  merit,  in  point  of  composition,  which  such  a  pic- 
ture can  Dossess.  Yet  Teniers  repeated  the  subject 
in  another  picture  at  Potsdam,  and  introduced  his  wife 
and  mother-in-law  as  devils.  With  the  old  lady  he 
kept  no  measures;  but  he  satyrized  his  help-mate  only 
by  allowing  the  tip  of  a  tail  to  peep  out  from  beneath 
the  sweeping  train  of  her  gown.  Vandyke's  portraits 
of  Charles  I.,  of  his  Queen  Henrietta,  and  their  chil- 
dren, especially  the  last,  are  splendid  pictures. 

There  is  no  very  good  picture  of  Rembrandt  or  Ru- 
bens. The  Judgment  of  Paris,  by  the  latter,  is  infe- 
rior to  a  hundred  of  his  works  even  in  colouring,  and  is 
perhaps  tiie  very  worst  of  them  all  in  regard  to  the 
forms;  at  least,  if  there  be  others  in  which  the  forms 
are  absolutely  as  gross  and  clumsy  as  they  are  here — 
the  Magdalene  at  Hanover,  for  example — yet  the  de- 
ficiency strikes  us  in  this  picture  with  greater  force, 
because  it  is  a  subject  from  which  we  expect  the  most 
perfect  forms  of  beauty  in  both  sexes.  Paris,  a  heavy, 
awkward,  hard-featured,  ploughman-looking  fellow,  is 
seated  beneath  a  tree,  naked,  indeed,  but  covered  with 
an  enormous  broad-brimmed  hat.     He  is  thus  a  fitting 

*  There  were  two  brothers  of  this  name,  Hell  Breughel^  so  call- 
ed from  the  delight  he  took  in  painting  hell  and  witch  scenes, 
which  in  general  display  a  grotesque  richness  of  fancy,  quite  at 
home  in  such  pictures  ;  and  Velvet  Breughel^  who  derived  his  name 
from  the  smoothness  and  softness  of  his  colouring.  Their  father, 
too,  had  a  nickname,  Peter  the  Droll^  for  he  dealt  largely  in  the 
very  broadest  comic  which  even  the  Dutch  school  allowed. 


THE  GALLERY.  161 

judge  and  companion  for  the  three  blowsy,  fat,  flabby 
wenches,  under  whom  the  painter  has,  it  might  be  im- 
agined, caricatured  the  three  goddesses.  It  is  no  won- 
der that  Paris  looks  puzzled  ;  it  would  require  a  wiser 
man  to  decide  which  of  the  three  is  the  Icnst  ugly.  It 
is  extremely  possible  tliat  many  of  the  trivial  pictures 
which  bear  the  name  of  this  great  artist  were  never 
touched  by  his  pencil;  but,  amung  i)is  undoubted  works, 
there  is  enough  of  the  same  deficiency  to  convince  us, 
that  he  shared  deeply  the  general  character  of  the 
northern  schools,  a  felicitous  imitation  of  nature  with- 
out ennobling  her.  It  was  long  before  he  acquired  an 
accuracy  in  drawing  equal  to  the  captivating  colouring 
of  which  he  was  master  so  early.  One  can  scarcely 
believe  the  Deposition  from  the  Cross  at  Antwerp,  the 
Crucifixion  of  St.  Peter  at  Cologne,  or  the  Ascension  of 
the  Virgin,  (inferior  only  to  Titian's,)  in  the  gallery  at 
Brussels,  to  have  proceeded  from  the  same  pencil 
which  produced  so  many  masses  of  flesh,  flesh,  indeed, 
painted  to  the  life,  but  in  forms  more  gross  and  shape- 
less than  even  the  nymphs  of  Flemish  boors  ever 
were. 

Taste  is  so  very  flexible  a  thing,  that  you  may  al- 
most foretell  whether  an  ordinary  spectator's  inclina- 
tion will  lean  to  the  painters  of  the  south  or  of  the 
north,  according  as  the  one  or  the  other  have  first 
taught  him  to  feel  and  admire  the  power  of  the  art. 
Whoever  has  the  treasures  of  the  German  and  Fle- 
mish masters  opened  up  to  him,  only  after  coming  fresh 
from  revelling  in  the  galleries  of  Italy,  to  wh  se  heau- 
ties  memory  still  returns  with  the  fondness  of  a  first 
love,  is  sure  to  be  unjust  to  the  former.  In  no  other 
way  could  I  account  for  the  superior  attractions  of  the 
inner  gallery  of  Dresden,  which  contains  the  Italian 
schools,  although  it  can  safely  rest  on  its  own  absolute 
merits,  for  there  are  pictures  which  Jew  and  Gentile 
must  be  equally  loth  to  quit.  Raphael's  Madonna  di 
San  Sisto  "  shines  inimitable  on  earth  ;"  if  any  picture 

21 


16£  DRESDEN. 

deserves  to  be  placed  by   its  side,  it  must  be  his  own 
Transfiguration,  or  Titian's  Assumption    of  the   Virgin 
in  the  Academy  of    Venice,     The  composition  of   this 
wonderful  picture  is  simple  in  the  extreme.     The  Vir- 
gin hovers  on  a  cloud,  in  an  upright  attitude,  with  the 
holy  infint  in    her  arms.     Tie   Pope    St.  Sixtus,  from 
whom  the  picture  has    its  name,  arrayed   in  his  sacer- 
dotal robes,  kneels    upon   her   right.     He    looks  up  to 
the    Virgin     in    trembling    devotion  ;    every    feature 
breathes  pious  wonder  and  self-humiliation ;  his  clasp- 
ed hands  and  withered  countenance  seem  ready  to  sink 
beneath    the    burden    of    religious   awe.     St.  Barbara 
kneels  on    the   left;   but    her  youthful    and   beautiful 
countenance  is  lighted   up  with  a   mild   restrained  joy, 
and  is  bent  towards  the  earth,  as  if  turning  away  from 
the  glory  that  shines  round  the  Madonna      In  the  bot- 
tom of  the  picture  are    seen  the  heads  and  breasts  of 
two  cherubs,  the  best,  in  their  kind,  which  the  art  has 
produced.     One  of  them  has  his  little  arms  folded  ;  the 
other  is  resting  his  head  on  one  hand.      Nature  never 
created,  nor  could  a  poet's  fancy  imagine,  more  touch- 
ing forms  of  infantine  innocence  and  beauty,  joined,  at 
the  same  time,  to  a  tinge  of  seriousness  and  awe,  which 
gives  them  a    peculiar   character,  without  being  at  all 
unnatural,  and  falls  in  delightfully  with  the  whole  style 
of  the  picture.     We  feel  instantly  that  these  are  chil- 
dren, indeed,  but  children  of  a  higher   order,  and  em- 
ployed in  a  holy  service.     The    Madonna    herself,   all 
simplicity  and   serenity,  free  from  every  taint  of  exag- 
gerated rapture  or  affected  attitude,  floats  between  the 
heaven  and  earth  that  are  mingled  in  her  countenance, 
clasping  her  infant  to  her  bosom  with   the    fondness  of 
a  mother,  and,  at  the  same  time,  with  the  dignity  of  a 
superior  being. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  analyze  the  impression  which 
the  whole  composition  produces  ;  in  fact,  a  picture  or 
a  statue  which  can  be  completely  copied  in  language 
is  seldom  worth  seeing.     Besides  the   beauty    of  the 


THE  GALLERY.  16S 

forms,  and  the  vivid  and  highly  diversified  expression 
of  countenance,  its  great  enchantment  seems  to  he  in 
the  prevaihng  tone  of  mild  character,  in  the  heavenly 
tranquillity  that  is  spread  over  the  whole  composition. 
One  always  returns  with  longing  from  the  other  famed 
works  of  the  gallery,  to  rest  on  the  simple  beautv  of 
these  matchless  lb r ms  ;  and  I  almost  think  it  impossi- 
ble to  gaze  on  this  picture  without  becoming,  lor  the 
time,  a  better  man.  Like  the  harp  of  David,  it  puts 
every  evil  spirit  to  flight. 

After  this  Madonna  are  always  ranked  the  ^ve 
great  pictures  of  Correggio,  which  formerly  adorned 
the  gallery  of  Modena,  and  the  first  place  among  them 
is  universally  assigned  to  the  Night.  It  re[)resents  the 
holy  family  at  night,  illuminated  only  by  the  glory 
which  surrounds  the  infant — and  hence  its  name.  The 
mother  and  child  occupy  the  centre  of  the  picture,  so 
that  the  light  difluses  itself  in  all  directions  u[)on  the 
other  figures,  producing  an  extremely  vivid  effect,  and 
giving  the  personages  an  incredible  degree  of  relief,  by 
the  strong  masses  of  shade  against  which  it  is  set  off*. 
Only  the  face  and  bosom  of  the  mother  are  illumina- 
ted, as  she  bends  over  the  infant  on  her  lap.  Three 
herds  form  the  other  groupe.  One  of  them,  a  girl, 
starts  back  in  childish  astonishment  from  the  superna- 
tural light  ;  a  coarse  herdsman,  vv!io  contrasts  admira- 
bly with  the  elegant  lorm  of  the  virgin  herself,  looks 
in  with  an  almost  savage  wonder  ;  the  third  has  his  eyes 
directed  to  heaven,  with  a  more  pleasing  expression  of 
admiration  and  devotion.  In  the  back  ground,  Joseph 
fodders  the  ass  ;  and,  through  an  opening  in  the  wood- 
ed landscape,  the  morning  is  seen  to  dawn  over  the  dis- 
tant country,  giving  the  picture  the  force  of  a  religious 
allegory.  Artists  would  probably  have  some  fault  to 
find  with  every  individual  figure  in  the  composition  ; 
but  the  variety  of  form,  and  countenance,  and  charac- 
ter, all  differently  lighted  up,  according  to  the  position 
in  which  the  personages   stand  to  the  infant,  work  to- 


164  DRESIXEN. 

gether  to  form  an  admirable  whole.  In  fact,  the  pic- 
tu  6  has  often  been  set  down  as  Correggio's  master- 
piece ;  and  certainly,  in  so  far  as  the  effect  produced 
by  the  artificial  management  of  the  light  is  concerned, 
he  has  painted  nothing  great  in  the  same  kind,  and  no 
other  master  has  painted  any  thing  equally  great.  Yet 
it  is  doubtlul  whether,  in  the  more  poetical  merits 
of  the  art,  there  are  not  better  pictures  of  Correggio  in 
Parma.  The  Madonna  di  San  Girolamo  makes  an  im- 
pression, not  so  vivid  at  first,  but  much  more  lasting. 
Tlje  three  other  great  paintings,  the  St.  George,  the 
Si.  Francis,  and  the  St.  Sebastian,  all  represent  similar 
groupes, — the  virgin  and  child  surrounded  by  various 
saints,  but  all  in  na^tural  lights.  St.  John,  in  the  second 
of  these,  looking  out  from  the  picture  towards  the  spec- 
tator, and  pointing  to  the  young  Redeemer,  is  one  of 
the  most  animated  and  eloquent  of  all  Correggio's  fig- 
ures. The  little  picture,  the  Magdalene  reclining  on 
the  ground,  wrapt  up  in  a  blue  mantle,  and  reading  a 
book,  is  a  most  simple  painting,  but  inimitable  from  its 
very  simplicity,  its  pure  beauty  of  form,  and  fullness 
of  expression.  It  derived  a  greater  merit,  in  the 
eyes  of  a  certain  mason,  from  the  gems  with  which  the 
frame  was  thickly  set ;  he  broke  into  the  gallery  one 
night,  and  stole  the  picture. 

Perhaps  it  is  unfortunate  for  the  effect  of  these 
pictures  of  Correggio,  that  they  are  so  much  alike,  and 
all  together.  They  form,  indeed,  a  series,  exemplify- 
ing the  style  of  the  painter  in  the  different  stages  of 
its  improvement,  and  this  is  repeated  to  you  again  and 
again  as  a  great  recommendation  of  the  collection : 
"  We  have  a  sample  of  Correggio  in  all  his  styles." 
But  those  gradations,  which  may  be  extremely  dis- 
cernible and  interesting  to  the  artist  and  connoisseur, 
are  lost  on  the  ordinary  spectator,  who  only  asks  of  a 
picture  that  it  shall  speak  to  him,  and  make  him  feel. 
If  the  beauty  of  the  first  of  them  which  falls  under  the 
eye  be  properly  appreciated,  the  effect  of  the   others 


THE  GALLERY.  165 

is  diminished;  for  the  subjects,  the  grouping,  and  the 
general  spirit,  are  very  similar  in  all  of  them,  and  the 
varieties  in  the  style  of  colouring  are  not  very  strik- 
ing. The  gradations  in  t!ie  style  of  Correggio  are  not 
at  all  like  those  of  Raphael,  one  of  whose  pictures, 
painted  by  him  while  he  was  under  Perrugino,  could 
not  easily  be  recognized  as  a  work  of  the  same  master 
who  produced  the  Transfiguration;  they  are  even 
much  less  marked  than  those  of  Guido.  Moreover, 
all  these  pictures,  with  tne  exception  of  the  Magda- 
lene, represent  subjects  in  which  Correggio  has  less 
variety  than  in  others.  In  the  Madonna,  more  than 
in  any  other  figure,  the  great  painters  are  easily  disco- 
vered ;  for,  with  all  of  them,  she  is  more  or  less  pure- 
ly ideal,  and  the  ideal  of  a  painter  of  original  genius 
does  not  readily  change.  No  one,  I  believe,  accustom- 
ed to  the  galleries  of  Rome,  Florence,  and  Bologna, 
ever  found  much  difficulty  in  recognizing  a  Madonna  of 
Raphael,  or  Guido,  or  Da  Vinci.  Correggio  is  more  a 
copier  of  himself  in  the  Mother  of  God  than  any  other 
artist  of  equal  name.  With  his  Madonnas  in  your  me- 
mory, look  at  his  portrait  of  his  nn'stress  in  Potsdam, 
and  you  see  at  once  that  all  the  former  have  been 
created  by  ennobling  the  latter.  Raphael  occasional- 
ly made  use  of  his  Fornarina  to  lend  a  feature  for  the 
maiden-mother,  but  Correggio  never  forsakes  his  be- 
loved ;  in  all  his  Virgins  of  celebrity  she  is  distinctly 
recognizable  ;  it  is  only  in  the  Magdalene  that  no  trace 
of  her  is  to  be  found.  It  would  be  woeful  stupidity  to 
say  that  Dresden  has  too  much  of  Corresfio ;  thai  is 
impossible;  but  perhaps  it  has  toornuch  of  the  same 
subjects;  and  this,  I  doubt  not,  is  one  reason,  why 
spectators,  not  artists  themselves,  are  thrown  irito 
much  less  lively  raptures  by  these  pictures  than  they 
bad  been  led  to  exj)ect.  To  my  own  feelings,  the 
Madonna  di  San  Sisto  stands  at  an  immeasurable  dis- 
tance above  any  of  them. 

Julio  Romano's  Pan  and  Satyr  is  another  picture  to 


166  DRESDEN. 

make  one  wish  he  had  kept  to  his  frescoes,  where  he 
seldom  failed  to  be  among  the  foremost.  Raphael  ne- 
ver forgot,  in  his  frescoes,  the  grace  and  elegance  of 
his  oil  painting;  the  scholar,  on  the  other  hand,  gave 
himself  entirely  up  to  the  boldness,  and  even  harsh- 
ness, so  naturally  produced  by  fresco  painting,  and 
transferred  the  same  style  to  canvas,  where  it  is  much 
less  in  its  place.  Hence,  in  so  many  of  his  oil  paint- 
ings, there  is  a  roughness  ot"  execution  and  colouring, 
and  a  want  of  accurate  and  finished  outline,  which  are 
not  always  redeemed  by  the  boldness  of  his  attitudes 
and  the  strength  of  his  shades.  A  Holy  Family,  tl  ough 
of  somewhat  outre  composition,  representing  the  in- 
fant standing  in  a  basin  of  water,  to  be  washed  by  his 
mother,  while  St.  Anne  holds  a  towel  to  dry  him,  is  a 
better  picture;  but  still  there  are  hands  and  feet 
which  would  have  been  allowable  only  in  the  War  of 
the  Giants,  and  which  Julio's  master  would  not  have 
admitted  even  in  a  fresco.  There  is  a  copy  of  the  St. 
Cecilia  ascribed  to  him  ;  the  copy  is  masterly,  but  the 
tradition  is  uncertain;  nor  is  it  easy  to  believe  that  a 
painter  so  celebrated  and  so  occupied  as  an  original 
artist  as  Julio  Romano  was,  can  have  spent  his  time  on 
the  innumerable  copies  which  are  every  where  current 
in  his  name. 

The  picture  which  represents  a  martyr  with  the  fire 
kindlinp^  p^  ^''^  ferl,  and  is  docribeU  lo  Michel  Angelo, 
is  just  such  a  figure  as  he  would  have  painted,  and  pro- 
bably its  very  prototype  may  be  found  in  the  Vatican; 
but  it  is  in  oil,  a  circumstance  always  injurious  to  the 
authenticity  of  any  picture  pretending  to  be  from  the 
pencil  of  an  artist  who  used  it  so  very  seldom  in  oil 
painting,  which  he  declared  to  be  fit  only  for  women 
and  lazy  men.  The  gallery  is  weak  in  the  Venetian, 
and  Bolognese,  and  Florentine  schools,  though  there  is 
one  of  those  voluptuous  beauties  of  Titian,  commonly 
called  Venuses,  and  a  very  beautiful  half  figure  of  St. 
Cecilia  by  Carlo  Dolce,  a  favourite  subject  of  copying 


THE  GALLERY.  167 

among  the  female  amateurs.  Of  Da  Vinci,  the  great 
father  of  the  Lombard  school,  there  is  only  a  portrait 
of  Sforza,  the  celebrated  usurper  of  Milan,  vvno  was 
too  fortunate  in  having  Leonardo  to  paint  him,  and 
Guicciardini  to  write  his  history  :  it  is  a  portrait  that 
belongs  to  the  very  firsl  class  in  every  respect. 

The  crowds  of  copyists  which  fill  the  gallery  during 
the  summer  months,  show  that  the  possession  of  this 
rich  collection  Ijas  not  been  altogether  favourable  to 
the  growth  of  original  genius.  A  sure  and  lucrative 
employment  is  found  in  making  miniature  copies  ;  ori- 
ginality of  style  and  composition  dies  out ;  or,  when 
the  painter  ventures  to  work  after  his  own  taste  and 
imagination,  he  unconsciously  degenerates  into  manner- 
ism. Dietrich  was  a  skilful  landscape  painter,  but  he 
possessed  a  dangerous  facility  of  pencil.  Mengs,  the 
first  of  modern  German  artists,  though  by  birth  a  Bo- 
hemian, is  more  properly  to  be  given  to  Italy,  where 
he  spent  his  life.  Within  these  few  years,  Kiigelchen 
gained  a  great  name.  His  pictures  are  distinguished 
by  great  elegance  of  forms,  with  much  softness  and 
tenderness,  a  sort  of  fairy  lightness,  in  the  colouring. 
A  murderer  cut  him  off  too  early.  Dresden  still  con- 
tains many  painters,  and  a  love  of  the  art  is  widely 
diffused ;  but  the  painters  are  copyists,  and  the  love 
of  the  art  is  dilettanteism.  During^  summer  and  au- 
tumn, the  gallery  is  filled  with  professional  and  ama- 
teur artists,  copying  the  celebrated  pictures,  or  indivi- 
dual groupes  or  figures  from  them,  for  money  or 
amusement.  Many  of  them,  especially  of  the  mere 
amateurs,  are  ladies,  and  here  the  pride  of  rank  which, 
in  every  thing  else  in  Germany,  is  so  unyielding,  gives 
way.  The  countess  pursues  her  task  by  the  side  of 
her  more  humble  companion,  who  is  copying  for  her 
daily  bread,  under  the  gaze  of  every  strolling  stranger. 
It  is  nothing  uncommon  to  find  ladies  repairing  to 
Dresden  from  distant  capitals,  to  spend  part  of  the 
summer  in  copying  pictures. 


168  DRESDEN. 

One  of  the  most  complete  collections  of  copper- 
plates in  Europe,  containing  every  thing  that  is  inter- 
esting in  the  history  of  the  art,  or  valuable  for  practi- 
cal excellence,  forms  a  supplement  to  the  pictures. 
The  earliest  is  of  the  date  of  1466,  and  is  said  to  be 
the  earliest  vet  known.  What  a  leap  the  art  takes  at 
once  from  the  uncouth  forms  of  Schonsrauer  and 
Mechlin,  to  the  drawing  and  finishing  of  Durer !  it 
is  amusing  to  observe  the  minutiae  by  which  the  con- 
noisseur distinguishes  an  ongmal  plate  from  the  copies, 
often  excellent,  which  have  been  made  of  most  cele- 
brated engravings.  In  a  portrait,  the  graver  had  slip- 
ped at  a  letter  in  the  word  Effigies^  so  that  this  letter 
is  accompanied,  in  the  original,  by  a  slight  scratch, 
more  diilficult  to  be  observed  than  the  fragment  of  a 
hair.  The  copyist  either  had  not  observed  the  defect, 
or  had  thought  proper  to  correct  it ;  and  the  absence 
of  this  blemish  is  the  only  test  by  which  the  copy  can 
be  distinguished  from  the  original.  In  an  early  work 
of  Diirer,  which  contains  a  town,  the  omission  of  a 
small  chimney, — which  is  not  more  than  a  point,— and, 
in  another,  a  still  slighter  variation  in  the  ornaments 
of  a  helmet,  alone  detect  the  copy.  Money  is  liberal- 
ly spent  in  carrying  on  the  series  in  the  works  of  the 
modern  masters  of  all  countries.  Whoever  wishes  to 
study  the  history  of  this  beautiful  art,  and  be  initiated 
into  the  mysteries  of  connoisseurship^  can  find  no  bet- 
ter school  than  the  cabinet  of  Dresden.  It  overflows 
with  materials,  and  is  under  the  direction  of  a  gentle- 
man, who  not  only  seems  to  be  thoroughly  master  of 
his  occupation,  but  has  the  much  rarer  merit  of  being 
in  the  highest  degree  patient,  attentive,  and  communi- 
cative. 

The  Saxons,  to  complete  their  school  of  arts,  have 
procured  a  quantity  of  ancient  sculptures,  purchased 
and  begged  from  different  quarters  of  Italy,  and  casts 
in  fijypsum  of  the  great  works,  which  could  neither  be 
bought  nor  begged.     The  latter  are  from  the  hand 


THE  GREEN  VAULT.  169 

of  Mcn^s  himself,  and,  besides  perfect  accuracy,  many 
parts  of  the  figure,  such  as  the  hair,  are  finished  with 
a  much  higher  degree  of  industry  and    precision    llian 
is  usually    found  in  this  department  of  the  plastic  art. 
Both    collections  are  under  the   direction  of  Bottiger, 
than  whom  Germany  recognizes  no  greater   name  in 
every  thing  connected   with  ancient   art   and  classical 
antiquities.      With,    perhaps,    less    taste    in    the    arts 
themselves,  he  is  allowed  to  be  master  of  much  more 
extensive    and    profound    erudition    concerning    them, 
than    VVinckelman,  in   whom   his  Contributions   to   tke 
History  of  Ancient   Paintings  corrected    many  errors, 
and  supplied  many  deficiencies.     This  erudition,  which 
Heyne  and  Wolif  in  vain  urged  him  to  lay  out  in  some 
great  work,  instead  of  squandering  it,  by  fits  and  starts, 
among  a  hundred  different   subjects  in    tracts  and   re- 
views, is  quite  in  its    place  in    his  lectures,   or  even  in 
the  Abendzeitung^  the  polite  journal  of  Dresden,  which 
is  often   made  the    vehicle  of  his  lucubrations  ;    but  it 
is  formidable    to  a   listener  in  ordinary    conversation. 
When   Bottiger   bends    his    head,   and    half  shuts    his 
eyes,  the    hearer  may  reckon  on   encountering  a  flood- 
tide  of  erudition  and  superlatives,  which,  however,  the 
kindliness   and  simplicity  of  the  old  man   render  per- 
fectly tolerable. 

It  would  be  unpardonable  to  pass  over  in  silence 
the  treasures  of  the  Grime  Geivolbe,  or  Green  Vault, 
of  which  every  Saxon  is  so  proud  ;  and  whoever  takes 
pleasure  in  the  glitter  of  precious  stones,  in  gold  and 
silver  wrought,  not  merely  into  all  sorts  of  royal  orna- 
ments, but  ipto  every  form,  however  grotesque,  that 
art  can  give  them,  without  any  aim  at  either  utility  or 
beauty,  will  stroll  with  satisfaction  through  the  apart- 
ments of  this  gorgeous  toy-shop.  They  are  crowded 
with  the  crowns,  and  jewels,  and  regal  attire  of  a  long 
line  of  Saxon  princes;  vases  and  other  utensils  seem 
to  have  been  made  merely  as  a  means  of  expending 
gold  and  silver ;  the  shelves  glitter  with  caricatured: 
22 


170  DRESDEN. 

urchins,  whose  body  is  often  formed  of  a  huge  pear], 
or  an  et;r-shell,  the  (irnbs  being  added  in  enamelled 
gold.  The  innumerable  carvings  in  ivory  are  more 
interesting,  as  memorials  of  a  diflicult  art,  which  was 
once  so  highly  esteemed  in  Germany,  and  of  ti)e 
minute  labour  with  which  German  artists  could  mould 
the  most  reluctant  materials  into  difficult  forms.  One 
is  dazzled  by  the  quantity  of  gems  and  precious  meta)s 
that  glare  around  him ;  he  must  even  admire  the  in- 
genuity which  has  fashioned  them  into  so  many  orna- 
ments and  unmeaning  nick-nacks;  but  there  is  nothing 
that  he  forgets  more  easily,  or  that  deserves  less  to  be 
remembered. 

The  Rustkammer,  too,  (the  armoury,)  is  not  merely 
a  museum,  containing  a  few  specimens  of  what  sort  of 
things  spears  and  coats  of  mail  were,  but  is  just  what 
a  well-stored  armoury  must  have  been  in  the  days  of 
yore.  Were  Europe  thrown  back,  by  the  word  of 
an  enchanter,  into  the  middle  ages.  Saxony  could  take 
the  field,  with  a  duly  equipped  army,  sooner  than  any 
other  power.  We  cannot  easily  form  any  idea  of  the 
long  practice  which  must  have  been  necessary  to  ena- 
ble a  man  to  wear  such  habiliments  with  comfort, 
much  more  to  wield,  at  the  same  time,  such  arms  with 
agility  and  dexterity.  But  the  young  officers  of  those 
days  wore  armour  almost  as  soon  as  they  could  walk, 
and  transmigrated  regularly  from  one  iron  shell  into 
another,  more  unwieldy  than  its  predecessor,  till  they 
reached  the  full  stature  of  knighthood,  and  played  at 
broadsword  with  the  weight  of  a  twelve  pounder  on 
their  backs,  as  lightly  as  a  lady  bears  a  chaplet  of 
silken  flowers  on  her  head  in  a  quadrille.  There  is 
here  a  complete  series  of  the  suits  set  apart  for  the 
princes  of  Saxony  ;  the  smallest  seemed  to  be  for  a 
boy  of  ten  or  twelve  years  old.  It  would  be  difficult 
to  find  a  man  who  could  promenade  in  the  cuirass  of 
Augustus  II.,  which  you  can  hardly  raise  from  the 
ground,  or  sport  his  cap,  which  incloses  an  iron  hat 


LITERATURE.  171 

heavier  than  a  tea-kettle  ;  but  Augustus,  if  you  believe 
the  Saxons,  was  a  second  Samson.  They  have  in 
their  mouths  innumerable  histories  of  his  bodily  prow- 
ess ;  such  as,  that  he  lifted  a  trumpeter  in  full  armour, 
and  held  him  aloft  on  the  palm  of  his  hand ;  that  he 
tw  isted  the  iron  bannister  of  a  stair  into  a  rope,  and 
made  love  to  a  coy  beauty  by  presenting  in  one  hand 
a  bag  of  gold,  and  breaking,  with  the  other,  a  horse- 
shoe. 

Among  the  reliques  is  the  first  instrument  with  which 
Schwarz  tried  his  newly  invented  gunpowder.  The 
fire  is  produced  by  friction.  A  small  bar  of  iron,  plac- 
ed parallel  to  the  barrel,  is  moved  rapidly  forwards 
and  backwards  bv  the  hand;  above  it  is  a  flint,  whose 
^^^^.  is  pressed  firculy  against  the  upper  surface  of  the 
bar  by  a  spring  ;  the  Iriction  of  the  llint  against  the  bar 
strikes  out  the  fire,  which  falls  upon  the  powder  in  a 
small  pan  beneath. 

These  are  some  of  the  treasures  and  curiosities,  the 
collections  of  arts  and  trifles,  which  have  made  the 
Saxons  so  proud  of  their  capital,  and  draw  to  it  men  of 
genius  and  taste,  as  well  as  men  of  mere  idleness  and 
dissipation.  The  general  tone  of  society  bears  the 
same  impress  of  lightness  and  gaiety.  Though  there 
are  many  men  of  high  literary  reputation  in  Dresden, 
regular  literary  coteries  are  not  favourite  forms  of  so- 
cial life;  the  pedantry  and  affectation  Avhich  generally 
surround  them  are  not  for  the  meridian  of  Dresden. 
But  it  can  easily  happen  that,  after  sipping  your  tea 
amid  chit-chat,  you  arc  doomed  to  hear  some  one  read 
aloud  for  a  couple  of  hours.  The  yawning  gentlemen 
may  deserve  some  commiseration  ;  but  the  ladies  are 
not  to  be  pitied,  for  they  are  universally  the  great  pa- 
tronesses of  these  evening  congregations,  and  knitting 
goes  on  just  a<^  rapidly  as  if  they  were  tattling  with 
each  other.  Tick,  a  poet  of  original  genius  himself, 
and  a  worthy  co-operator  in  the  labours  which  liave  so 
successfully   transplanted   Shakespeare  to   the  soil  of 


\7t  DRESDEN. 

Germany,  is  peculiarly  celebrated  for  his  elocutionary 
powers.  I  have  heard  him  read,  at  one  stretch,  the 
whole  of  Slmkespeare's  Julius  Caesar,  in  Schlegei's 
translation,  to  an  enraptured  tea-auditory,  with  a  diife- 
rent  modification  of  voice  for  every  character;  and  re- 
ally the  combined  merits  of  the  translation  and  elocu- 
tion left  little  to  be  desired. 

Yet,  with  all  its  love  of  gaiety  and  novelty,  Dresden 
is,  I  take  it,  the  only  respectable  European  capital  in 
which  no  newspaper,  properly  so  called,  is  published. 
The  JIbendzeitung  is  intended  for  tea-tables,  and  is  fil- 
led with  sentimental  tales  and  verses,  old  anecdotes 
which  interest  nobody,  and  critiques  on  the  periorman- 
ces  in  all  the  great  German  theatres,  which  interest 
every  body.  There  is  no  political  newspaper,  owning 
probably  to  the  vicinity  of  Leipzig,  where  people  per- 
haps believe  political  newspapers  can  be  better  man- 
aged, because  political  matters  are  more  attended  to, 
and  better  understood.  It  cannot  be  because  the  cen- 
sorship is  more  strict  at  Dresden  than  at  Leipzig,  for 
all  the  Leipzig  newspapers  are  admitted,  and  at  the 
Resource, — a  club  of  gentlemen  for  reading  newspa- 
pers and  eating  dinners, — 1  found  not  only  the  French 
journals,  but  the  Morning  Chronicle  and  the  Times, 
along-side  of  the  Courier. 

Though  French  is  still  the  conventional  language  of 
courtiers  and  waiters,  English  is  very  generally  culti- 
vated among  the  well  educated  ranks.  The  German 
which  they  speak,  and  fondly  speak,  has  no  rival  in  pu- 
rity, except  the  dialect  of  Hanover  ;  and  the  prefer- 
ence given  by  grammarians  to  the  latter  rests  on  small 
points  of  pronunciation,  in  which  analogy  perhaps  fa- 
vours Hanover,  but  the  ear  allows  her  little  superiori- 
ty. So  far  is  the  nicety  of  Hanover  from  fixing  itself 
in  the  pure  German  states  as  the  mark  of  a  well  edu- 
cated man,  that  I  have  known  Hanoverians,  when  liv- 
ing in  Saxcny,  renounce  their  native  pronunciation,  to 
avoid  the  charge  of  being  affected.     I  have  sometimes 


THE  LANGUAGE.  173 

hesitated  whether  German,  on  the  hps  of  a  fair,  fro- 
hcking  Saxon,  was  not  just  as  pleasini^  a  languati;e  as 
Itahan  in  the  mouth  of  a  languisl)ing,  voluptuous  Vene- 
tian,— though  those  who  judge  of  the  former  of  these 
tongues  merely  from  the  apocryphal  saying  of  Charles 
v.,  that  it  was  a  language  fit  to  bespoken  only  to  hor- 
ses, will,  no  doubt,  think  it  very  ridiculous  that  any 
such  doubt  should  ever  be  erjtertained.  I  do  not  mean 
that  the  accents,  considered  merely  as  the  materials  of 
sound,  fall  so  softly  on  the  ear;  but  German  is  so  much 
more  poetical  in  the  ideas  which  these  accents  suggest 
and  reprcbcnt  than  any  other  living  language,  that  it 
possesses  a  much  higher  merit,  because,  in  addition  to 
the  philosophical  regularity  of  its  structure,  it  {)aints  in 
much  more  vivid  colours.  Even  the  roughness  to  the 
ear  is  by  no  means  so  frequent  or  striking  as  we  are 
apt  to  imagine  ;  while  the  expressions  awake  so  many 
feelings  and  associations,  that  the  merely  sensual  claims 
of  the  ear  are,  in  a  great  measure,  disregarded.  A 
traveller  who  has  heard  a  postillion  grumble  about  his 
Trmkgeld^  or  a  couple  of  peasants  curse  and  swear  at 
each  other  in  an  ale-house,  and  who,  whenever  he  is 
in  company  that  is  suitable  for  him,  hears  and  speaks 
only  French,  immediately  writes  down  that  German  is 
a  horrible  language  which  splits  the  ear,  and  furnishes 
merely  a  coarse  medium  for  saying  coarse  things.  What 
would  we  think  of  Italian  were  it  judged  of  in  the  same 
way?  Where  are  there  upon  earth  more  grating  and 
atrocious  sounds  than  the  dialects  of  the  Milanese  and 
Bolognese  ? 

One  of  thu  least  pleasing  features  of  this  gay  and 
elegant  capital  is  the  number  of  condemned  malefac- 
tors employed  in  cleaning  the  streets,  fettered  by  the 
leg,  and  kept  to  their  labour  by  the  rod  of  an  over- 
seer, and  the  muskets  of  sentinels.  Here,  just  as  in 
Italy,  these  miscreants  have  the  impudence  to  ask  cha- 
rity in  the  name  of  heaven  from  the  [)assenger  whose 
pocket  they  would   pick,  or  whose   throat  they  would 


174  DRESDEN. 

cut,  if  the  chain  were  but  taken  from  their  ancle.  The 
time  not   consumed  in  labour  is   spent   in  a    miserable 
and  corrupting  confinement,  in  dungeons  which  are  al- 
ways loathsome,  and  sometimes  subterraneous.     Hav- 
ing heard  a  professor  of  Jena  rail,  in  his  lecture,  at  the 
maladministration  of  English  prisons,  in  a  stjle  which 
1  suspected  no  German  who  looked  nearer  home  was 
entitled  to  use,  I  took  occasion  to  visit  one  of  the  pri- 
sons of  Dresden.     It  was  crowded  with  accused  as  well 
as   condemned,  and  seemed  to  have   all   the  usual  de- 
fects of  ill-regulated  gaols,  both  as  to   the  health  and 
moral  welfare  of  its  inmates.     They  were  deposited  in 
small  dark  cells,  each  of  which  contained  three  prison- 
ers ;  a  few  boards,  across   which   a   coarse  mat    was 
thrown,  supplied  the  place  of  a  bed,  and  the  cells  were 
overheated.       Many    of   the    prisoners   were   persons 
whose  guilt    had  not  yet  been   ascertained  ;  but,  possi- 
ble  as   their  innocence  might  be,  it  was  to  some    the 
sixth,  the  eighth,  even   the   twelfth  month  of  this  de- 
moralizing confinement.     One   young  man,  whom  the 
gaoler  allowed  to   be   a  respectable  person,  had   been 
pining  for  months,  without  knowing,  as  he  said,  why  he 
was  there.     The  allegation  might  be  of  very  doubtful 
truth,  but  the  procrastinated  suffering,  without  any  de- 
finite point  of  termination,  was  certain.     Till  the  judge 
shall    find  time   to   condemn  them  to  the    highway,  or 
dismiss  them  as  innocent,  they  must  languish  on  in  these 
corrupting   triumvirates,   in   dungeons,   compared  with 
which  the  cell  they  would  be  removed  to,  if  condemn- 
ed  to  die,  is  a   comfortable  abode.     1  could  easily   be- 
lieve the  assurance  of  the  gaoler,  that  they  uniformly 
leave  the  prison  worse  than  they  entered  it. 

Such  arrangements,  under  a  system  of  criminal  law 
like  that  which  prevails  all  over  Germany,  are  hide- 
ous ; — because  it  is  a  system  which  sets  no  determi- 
nate limit  to  the  duration  of  this  previous  confinement. 
The  length  of  the  imprisonment  of  an  accused  person 
depends,  not  on  the  law,  but  on   the  judge,  or  those 


CRIMINAL  LAW.  17^ 

who  are  above  the  judge.  The  law  having  once  got 
the  man  into  gaol,  does  not  seem  to  trouble  itself  any 
farther  about  him.  There  are  instances,  and  recent 
ot)es  too,  of  persons  being  dismissed  as  innocent  after  a 
five  years'  preparatory  imprisonment.  People,  to  be 
sure,  shake  their  heads  at  such  things,  with  "aye,  it 
was  very  hard  on  the  poor  man,  but  the  court  could 
not  sooner  arrive  at  the  certainty  of  his  guilt  or  inno- 
cence." No  doubt,  it  is  better,  as  they  allege,  that  a 
man  should  be  unjustly  imprisoned  five  years,  than  un- 
justly hanged  at  the  end  of  the  first;  but  they  cannot 
see  that,  if  there  was  no  good  ground  for  hanging  him 
at  the  end  of  the  first,  neither  could  there  be  any  for 
keeping  him  in  gaol  during  the  other  four.  They  in- 
sist on  the  necessity  of  discovering  the  truth.  Where 
suspicious  circumstances  exist,  though  they  acknow- 
ledge it  would  be  wrong  to  convict  the  man,  they 
mamtai!)  it  would  be  equally  wrong  to  liberate  him, 
and  therefore  fairly  conclude  that  he  must  remain  in 
prison  "  till  the  truth  comes  out."  To  get  at  the  cer- 
tain truth  is  a  very  excellent  thing ;  but  it  is  a  very 
terrible  thing,  that  a  man  must  languish  in  prison  dur- 
ing a  period  indefinite  by  law,  till  his  judges  discover 
with  certainty  whether  he  should  ever  have  been 
there  or  not.  The  secrecy  in  which  all  judicial  pro- 
ceedings are  Vv^rapt  up,  at  once  diminishes  the  appa- 
rent number  of  such  melancholy  abuses,  and  prevents 
the  public  mind  from  being  much  affected  by  those 
which  become  partially  known. 

All  this  leads  to  another  practice,  whicJ],  however  it 
may  be  disg-ulsed,  is  nothing  else  than  the  torture.  It 
is  a  rule,  in  all  capital  offences,  not  to  inflict  the  pu- 
nishment, however  clear  the  evidence  may  be,  without 
a  confession  by  the  culprit  himself.  High  treason,  I 
believe,  is  a  practical  exception;  but  in  all  other  capi- 
tal crimes,  though  there  should  not  be  a  hook  to  hanic 
a  doubt  upon,  yet,  if  the  culprit  deny,  he  is  only  con- 
demned to,  perhaps,  perpetual  imprisonment.     There 


176  DRESDEN. 

is  no  getting  rid  of  the  dilemma,  that,  in  the  opinion  of 
the  man's  jiidi^es,  his  guilt  is  either  clearly  proved,  or 
it  is  not.  If  it  be  clearly  proved,  then  the  whole  pu- 
nishment, il  not,  then  no  punishment  at  all  should  be 
inflicted;  oiherxvise  suspicions  are  visited  as  crimes, 
and  a  man  is  treated  as  a  criminal,  because  it  is  doubt- 
ful whether  he  be  one  or  not.^  If  his  judges  think 
that  his  denial  proceeds  merely  from  obstinacy,  he  is 
consigned  to  a  dungeon,  against  whose  horrors,  to 
judge  from  the  one  I  was  shown,  innocence  itself  could 
not  long  hold  out;  for  death  on  the  scalfold  w^ould  be 
a  far  easier  and  more  immediate  liberation,  than  the 
mortality  which  creeps  over  every  limb  in  such  a  cell. 
It  is  a  cold,  damp,  subterraneous  hole;  the  roof  is  so 
low,  that  the  large  drops  of  moisture  distilling  from 
above  must  trickle  immediately  on  the  miserable  in- 
mate; its  dimensions  are  so  confined,  that  a  man  could 
not  stretch  out  his  limbs  at  full  length.  Its  only  furni- 
ture is  wet  straw,  scantily  strewed  on  the  wet  ground. 
There  is  not  the  smallest  opening  or  cranny  to  admit 
either  light  or  air;  a  prisoner  could  not  even  discern 
the  crust  of  bread  and  jug  of  water  allotted  to  support 
life  in  a  place  where  insensibility  would  be  a  blessing. 
I  am  not  describing  any  relique  of  antiquated  barbari- 
ty ;  the  cell  is  still  in  most  efficient  operation.  About 
four  years  ago,  it  was  inhabited  by  a  woman  convicted 
of  murder.  As  she  still  denied  the  crir^e,  her  judges, 
who  had  no  pretence  for  doubt,  sent  her  to  this  dun- 
geon, to  extort   a  confession.     At  the   end  of  a  fort- 

*  The  established  practice  lias  been  vigorously  attacked  of  late 
years,  especially  by  Feucrbach,  a  high  name  in  German  jurispru- 
dence. The  query,  Whether  evidence  that  would  be  insufficient 
to  convict  without  the  confession  of  the  culprit,  should  justify  a 
lower  degree  of  punishment,  or  free  him  from  all  punishment, 
was  the  subject  of  a  prize  question  in  1800.  A  summary  of  the 
controversy  may  be  found  in  tlie  third  and  fourth  volumes  of  the 
Archiv  des  Criminalreclds^  edited  by  Professors  Klein.  Kleinschrod, 
and  Konopack. 


CRIMINAL  LAW.  177 

night,  her  obstinacy  gave  way  ;  when  she  had  just 
strength  cnougli  lel't  to  totter  to  the  scalFold,  she  con- 
fessed the  murder  exactly  as  it  had  been  proved 
against  her. 

Such  a  practice  is  revolting  to  all  good  feeling,  even 
when  viewed  as  a  punishment ;  when  used  belore  con- 
demnation, to  extort  a  confession,  in  what  imaginable 
point  does  it  dilFer  from  the  torture?  Really  we  could 
almost  be  tempted  to  believe,  that  it  is  not  without 
some  view  to  future  utility,  that,  in  a  more  roomy 
apartment  adjoining  this  infamous  dungeon,  all  the  re- 
gular approved  instruments  of  torture,  from  the  wheel 
to  the  pincers,  are  still  religiously  preserved.  A  num- 
ber of  iron  hooks  are  fixed  in  the  ceiling;  a  correspond- 
ing block  of  wood  runs  across  the  floor,  filled  with 
sharp  pieces  of  iron  pointing  upwards;  in  a  corner 
were  mouldering  the  ropes  by  which  prisoners  used  to 
be  suspended  by  the  wrists  from  the  hooks,  with  their 
feet  resting  on  the  iron  points  below.  The  benches 
and  table  of  the  judges  still  retain  their  place,  as  Wf;ll 
as  the  old-fashioned  iron  candlestick,  which,  even  at 
mid-day,  furnished  the  only  light  that  rendered  visible 
the  darkness  of  this  "  cell  of  guilt  and  misery."  For- 
tunately, the  dust  has  now  settled  thick  upon  them, 
never,  let  us  hope,  to  be  disturbed. 

The  worst  of  all  is,  that  this  species  of  torture  (for, 
considering  what  sort  of  imprisonment  it  is,  and  for  what 
purposes  it  is  inflicted,  I  can  give  it  no  other  name)  is 
just  of  that  kind  which  works  most  surely  on  the  least 
corrupted.  To  the  masJer-spirits  of  villainy,  and  long 
tried  servants  of  iniquity,  a  dark,  damp  hole,  wet  straw, 
and  bread  and  water,  are  much  less  appalling  than  to 
the  novice  in  their  trade,  or  to  the  innocent  man  against 
whom  fortuitous  circumstances  have  directed  suspicion. 
How  many  men  have  burdened  themselves  with  crimes 
which  they  never  committed,  to  escape  from  torMire 
which  they  never  deserved  !  What  a  melancholy  cat- 
alogue might  be  collected  out  of  the  times  when  the 
23 


irs  DRESDEN. 

torture  was  still  inflicted  bj  the  executioner!  And, 
alas!  very  recent  experience  robs  us  of  the  satisfac- 
tion of  believing  thej  have  disappeared,  now  that  Ger- 
many has  substituted  for  the  rack  so  excruciating  a 
continement.  A  lamentable  instance  happened  In  Dres- 
den while  1  was  there,  (1821.)  Kiigelchen,  the  most 
celebrated  German  painter  of  iiis  day,  had  been  mur- 
dered and  robbed  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  city. 
A  soldier,  of  the  name  of  Fischer,  was  apprehended  on 
suspicion.  After  a  long  investigation,  his  judges  found 
reason  to  be  clearly  satisfied  of  his  guilt  ;  but  still,  as 
he  did  not  confess,  he  was  sent  to  the  dungeon,  to  con- 
quer his  obstinacy.  He  stood  it  out  for  some  months, 
but  at  last  acknowledged  the  murder.  He  had  not 
yet  been  broken  on  the  wheel,  when  circumstances 
came  out  which  pointed  suspicion  against  another  sol- 
dier, named  Kalkofen,  as  having  been  at  least  an  ac- 
complice in  the  deed.  The  result  of  the  new  inquiry  was, 
the  clearest  proof  of  Fischer's  total  innocence.  Kal- 
kofen voluntarily  confessed,  not  only  that  he  was  the 
murderer  of  Kiigelchen,  but  that  he  had  likewise  com- 
mitted a  similar  crime,  which  had  occurred  some 
months  before,  and  the  perpetrator  of  which  had  not 
hitherto  been  discovered.  The  miscreant  was  execu- 
ted, and  the  very  same  judges  who  had  subjected  the 
unhappy  Fischer  to  such  a  confinement,  to  extort  a  con- 
fession, now  liberated  him,  cleared  from  every  suspi- 
cion. As  the  natural  consequence  of  such  durance  in 
such  an  abode,  he  had  to  be  carried  from  the  prison 
to  the  hospital.  He  said,  that  he  made  his  false  con- 
fession, merely  to  be  released,  even  by  hastening  his 
execution,  from  this  pining  torture  which  preys  equal- 
ly on  the  body  and  the  mind.  This  is  the  most  fright- 
ful side  of  their  criminal  justice.  It  may  be  allowed,  that 
there  are  few  Instances  of  the  innocent  actually  suffering 
on  the  scaffold ;  such  examples  are  rare  in  all  countries  ; 
though  it  is  clear  that,  in  Germany,  the  guiltless  must 
often  owe  his  escape   to  accident,    while   the  law  has 


THE  GOVERNMENT.  179 

done  every  thing  In  Its  power  to  condemn  him.  But 
even  of  those  who  have  at  length  been  recognized  as 
innocent,  and  restored  to  character  and  society,  how 
miny,  hke  poor  Fischer,  have  carried  with  them,  from 
their  prison,  the  seeds  of  disease,  which  have  ultimate- 
ly conducted  them  to  the  grave  as  certainly  as  the  gib- 
bet or  the  wheel ! 

The  Estates  of  Saxony  were  sitting  at  Dresden,  and 
part  of  them  came  to  a  quarrel  with  the  government; 
the  civic  provosts  set  themselves  in  downright  opposi- 
tion to  tije  anointed  king,  or,  at  least,  to  the  anoin- 
ted king's  ministers.  The  Estates  have  as  yet  under- 
gone no  change ;  they  retain  their  antiquated  form, 
their  old  tediousness,  expensiveness,  and  inefficiency — 
a  collection  of  courtly  nobles  and  beneficed  clergymen, 
or  laymen  enjoying  revenues  that  once  belonged  to 
clergymen,  called  together  as  old-fashioned  Instruments 
which  the  royal  wishes  must  condescend  to  use,  but 
can  likewise  command.  The  great  mass  of  the  popu- 
lation, exclusive  of  the  aristocracy,  can  be  said  to  have 
a  voice  only  through  the  few  re[)resentatives  of  the 
towns,  in  the  mode  of  whose  election,  again,  there  is 
nothing  popular.  It  was  they  alone,  however,  who 
showed  a  desire  to  question  the  conduct  of  the  higher 
powers.  They  complained  that  their  rights  had  been 
violated  In  the  Imposition  of  taxes;  they  called  for  the 
accounts  of  those  branches  of  the  administration  for 
which  extraordinary  supplies  were  demanded  ;  when 
this  was  refused,  they  requested  permission  to  make 
their  proceedings  public,  as  a  justification  of  themselves 
to  the  people.  This,  too,  was  refused,  and  they  then 
addressed  a  remonstrance  to  the  Ritierschaft,  or  as- 
sembly of  the  nobility,  requesting  that  body  to  join 
them  in  making  good  their  reasonable  demands.  To 
all  inquiries  In  Dresden  how  the  matter  had  gone  on, 
and  what  proceedings  the  Ritterschaft  had  adopted, 
the  universal  and  discouraging  answer  was,  man  weiss 
nicht^  "nobody  knows." 


180  DRESDEN. 

In  fact,  in  a  body  so  constituted,  there  is  always  one 
predominating  and  irresistible  interest,  that  of  the  ari- 
stocracy. In  numbers,  and  still  more  in  inlluence,  they 
form  by  far  the  greater  part  of  those  who  are  called 
to  this  assembly  of  indefinite  powers,  of  advisers  rather 
than  controllers.  This  inlluence  is,  in  every  case,  at 
the  disposal  of  the  crown  ;  because,  from  the  habits  of 
society,  and  the  want  of  all  political  independence 
where  there  never  has  been  a  public  political  life,  those 
who  ostensibly  hold  it  know  no  higher  reward  than 
the  smiles  of  the  crown.  You  would  more  easily  pre- 
vail with  them  to  vote  away  the  money  or  personal  se- 
curity of  the  people  without  inquiry,  than  to  run  the 
risk  of  bein<j  excluded  from  the  next  court  dinner.  The 
defect,  therefore,  does  not  lie  in  the  aristocracy  pos- 
sessing a  powerful  interest ;  for  every  country  which 
pretends  to  exclude  them  from  it  is  forcing  its  political 
society  into  unnatural  forms,  and  can  scarcely  promise  it- 
self a  stable  or  tranquil  political  existence  :  it  lies  in  their 
possessing  this  influence  only  in  form,  while  it  really 
belongs  to  the  executive,  and  still  more,  in  their  allow- 
ing no  other  class  to  have  any  influence  at  all. 

Amid  the  feudal  relations  under  which  this  form  of 
government  originated,  and  which  alone  could  give  it 
any  justification,  the  nobility  were  really  almost  the 
only  persons  (exclusive  of  the  towns  that  acknowl- 
edged no  sovereign  but  the  empire)  who  could  be 
trusted,  to  any  useful  purpose,  with  political  power. 
The  connection  between  them  and  the  lower  ranks 
was  so  unequal,  that  any  influence  given  to  the  latter 
only  increased  the  power  of  the  former.  A  noble 
could  have  used  their  votes  just  as  arbitrarily  in  wrest- 
ing from  a  neighbour  the  representation  of  a  county, 
as  he  used  their  swords  in  wresting  from  him  a  pretty 
daughter,  or  a  score  of  black  cattle.  Out  of  their  own 
body,  no  class  pretended  to  any  rights,  because  there 
were  none  which  could  be  maintained  against  the  brute 
force  that  had  every   where  constituted  the  sword  in- 


THE  GOVERNMENT.  181 

terpreter  of  public  law.     But   this  exclusive  influence 
was  likewise  a  very  elfective  one  against  the  monarch. 
Those  very   feudal   relations   which    enabled    them  to 
abuse  every  body  else,  enabled   tjjem    likewise  to  |)re- 
vent  the  monarch  from  abusing  any  body  without  tlieir 
permission.     If  even  the   head   of  the   Huly    Roman 
Empire  called   them    around   him    to  punish  a  disobe- 
dient count,  or  an  impertinent  provost,  they  took  flieir 
own  way,  and  followed  their  own  likings,  m    the  quar- 
rel.    Tlie  army  of   the   empire    was    half  asseml»led, 
made  half  a  campaign  to   do  nothing  at  all,  and,  in  the 
course  of   centuries,  down   to    the  Seven  Years'    War, 
when  the  phantom  tor  the  last  time  took  a  bodily  lurm, 
fully  jusrified  the  ridicule  attached  to    the  very  name 
of  the  Reichs-execntions-armee.     But   it  is  long  since  all 
the  relations  of  society  were   totally    changed    in   both 
respects.     The  exchjded  classes    have    become    more 
proper  depositaries  of  a  certain  portion  of  political  in- 
fluence ;  still  earlier,  the  excluding  classes  had  become 
altogether  unfit  to  monopolize  an  influence  intended  to 
check   the    monarch,    because    they  had   degenerated 
into  a  body  of  courtly  retainers, dependent  on  that  \ery 
monarch,  commanded  by  him  to  ratify  his  pleasure,  re- 
quested perhaps  to   advise,   and,    if   they  disapproved, 
destitute  of  every  instrument  to  make  their  disappro- 
bation eflicient.     They  were  powerful  men,  and,  in  op- 
posing the  monarch,  were  on    many  occasions   useful 
men,  so  long  as  they  had    swords  in   their  hands,  and 
vassals  at  their  backs  ;  but  they  are  worthless  as  a  le- 
gislative body,  now  that  their  only  weapon  is  the  grey 
goose  quill  in  the  hand  of  their  clerk.^     Public  opinion 


*  So  accurately  do  the  people  judge  of  the  utility  of  such  a  hody, 
that  it  has  become  a  vulgar,  indeed,  but  yet  a  true,  because  a  pro- 
verbial distich : 

Das  was  ein  Landtag  ist  schliesst  sich  in  diesem  Reim  ; 
Versammelt  euch,  schafft  geld,  und  packt  euch  wieder  helm. 

The  picture  of  our  parliament  is  in  these  simple  rhymes  ; 
Assemble,  give  us  money,  and  get  home  again  betimes. 


18j&  ERFURTH. 

could  alone  give  them  force  j  but  that  is  a  weapon 
which  thej  do  not  venture  to  use,  for  they  know  that, 
if  once  drawn,  it  would  probably  attack  the  forms  which 
make  them,  though  only  in  name,  the  exclusive  organs 
of  public  sentiment  on  the  public  administration. 

Thus  the  predominating  influence  of  the  aristocracy, 
though  annihilated  as  to  its  power  of  doing  good,  still 
exists  as  to  its  power  of  excluding  all  other  classes 
which  have  gradually  risen  to  be  worthy  of  a  more 
efficient  voice  ;  the  old  forms  were  cut  only  to  oligar- 
chical shapes,  and  are  still  the  uniform  of  the  only 
constitutional  legislators.  The  system  is  bad  in  theory, 
because  it  is  at  once  exclusive  and  inefficient  ;  in  prac- 
tice, it  is  not  productive  of  real  oppression,  because, 
from  the  personal  character  of  the  monarch,  he  is  as  anx- 
ious to  promote  the  happiness  of  his  kingdom  as  of  his 
own  family.  But  in  Saxony,  as  in  every  other  German 
state  wliich  has  admitted  no  modification  of  the  old 
principle,  a  king  with  a  less  estimable  heart,  and  no 
better  a  head,  than  the  present  sovereign,  could  do 
infinite  mischief,  and  there  would  be  no  recognized 
power  in  the  state  which  could  legally  and  elfectuallj 
set  itself  in  the  breach. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


THURINGI A — CAS  SEX. 


Manner  versorgten  das  briillende  Vieh,  und  die  Pferd'  an  den  Wagen  ; 

Wasche  trockneten  emsig  auf  alien  Hecken  die  Weiber  ; 

Und  es  ergotzten  die  Kinder  sich  platschernd  im  Wasser  des  Baches. 

Go  the. 

B.ETRACING  Thurlngla  from  Weimar  towards  the 
capital  of  Westphalia,  Erfurth,  about  twelve  miles 
from  the  former,  presents  its  ramparts  and  cannon.  It 
is  only  as  a  fortress,  forming  the  key  between  Saxony 


LUTHER.  183 

and  Franconia,  that  it  is  now  of  any  Importance  ;  and 
the  lounging  Prussian  military  are  the  most  frequent 
objects  in  its  deserted  streets.  The  sixty  thousand  in- 
habitants whom  its  trade  and  manufactures  maintained, 
down  to  the  end  of  the  sixteenth  century,  have  dimi- 
nished to  less  than  one  third  of  the  number.  Erfurth 
sunk  as  Leipzig  rose.  The  last  scene  of  splendour 
that  enlivened  it,  was  the  congress  of  so  many  crown- 
ed heads  round  Napoleon  in  J  807.  Bonaparte,  though 
he  rarely  indulf>;ed  in  the  mere  pleasures  of  royalty, 
had  a  troop  of  French  actors  with  him,  and  both  here 
and  at  Weimar,  he  ordered  Voltaire's  death  of  Ca3sar 
to  be  given,  a  strange  choice  for  such  a  man.  During 
the  Congress  of  Aix-la-Chapelle,  the  wife  of  a  north- 
ern minister  refused  to  cro  to  the  theatre,  because 
"  cette  piece  liberale,"  William  Tell,  was  to  be  per- 
formed. 

Ttie  Augustine  monastery,  in  which  the  young  Lu- 
ther first  put  on  the  cowl  of  the  hierarchy  which  he 
was  to  shake  to  its  foundations,  and  strove  to  lull  with 
his  flute  the  impatient  longings  of  a  spirit  that  was  to 
set  Europe  in  flames,  has  been  converted  to  the  pur- 
poses of  an  orphan  asylum  ;  but  the  cell  of  the  Re- 
former has  been  religiously  preserved,  as  the  earliest 
memorial  of  the  greatest  man  of  modern  times.  The 
galleiy  on  which  it  opens  is  adorned  with  a  Dance  of 
Death,*  and  over  the  door  is  the  inscription, 

Celliila,  divino  magnoque  habitata  Lulhero, 

Salve,  vix  tanto  ceilula  digna  viro  ! 
Dignus  erat  qui  regnm  splendida  tecta  subiret, 

Te  dediffuatus  non  tamen  ille  fuit. 


*  The  reader  probably  knows,  that  such  a  Dance  of  Death  is  a 
series  of  painiini^s  rej)resenting  Denth  leading  off  to  the  other 
world  all  ranks  of  men,  from  the  monarch  to  the  beggar,  and  of  all 
professions  and  characters,  priests  and  coquettes,  soldiers  and  phi- 
lo'^ophers,  musJcians  an;l  doctors,  &sc.  &,c.  They  were  generally 
painted,  either  in  church-yards,  as  in  the  cemetery  of  the  Neu- 
stadtin  Dresden,  to  leach  the  general  doctrine  of  human  mortalityj 


184  ERFURTH. 

The  cell  is  small  and  simple,  and  must  have  been  a 
freezing  study.  Beside  his  portrait  is  hung  a  German 
exposition  of  the  text,  "  Death  is  swallowed  up  in  vic- 
tory," in  his  own  handwriting,  and  written  in  the  form 
in  which  old  books  often  terminate,  an  inverted  pyra- 
mid. There  is  a  copy  of  his  Bible  so  full  of  very 
good  illuminations,  that  it  might  be  called  a  Bible  with 
plates.  The  wooden  boards  are  covered  with  inge- 
nious carving  and  gilding,  and  studded  with  pieces  of 
coloured  glass,  to  imitate  the  precious  stones  which  so 
frequently  adorn  the  manuscripts  of  the  church.  It  is 
said  to  have  been  the  work  of  a  hermit  of  the  six- 
teenth century,  who  thus  employed  his  leisure  hours 
to  do  honour  to  Luther;  yet  Protestant  hermits  are 
seldom  to  be  met  with. 

Wherever  monks  nestled,  nuns  were  never  awant- 
ing.  Though  the  Prussian  government  ejected  both, 
when  compelled  by  its  necessities  to  convert  church 
property  to  the  use  of  the  state,  a  few  samples  were 
retained,  not  out  of  regard  to  the  religious  objects  of 
the  institution,  but  from  views  of  public  utility  as  to 
education.  The  Abbess  of  theUrsuline  convent  in  £r- 
furth  very  affably  receives  the  world,  though  she  ne- 
ver comes  into  it.  The  convent  machinery  is  entire. 
When  you  knock,  a  key  is  sent  out  by  a  turning  box, 
and  the  key  itself  admits  you  no  farther  than  the  par- 
lour grate.  The  grate,  however,  is  no  longer  the  ne 
plus  ultra  of  the  profane  sex.  A  withered  dame,  whose 
consecrated  charms  can  bear  with  perfect  impunity  the 

or  in  churches  and  convents,  to  commemorate  the  ravages  of  a 
pestilence.  Of  the  hitter  kind  was  the  celebrated  Dance  of  Death 
at  Bale,  painted  on  the  occasion  of  the  plague  which  raged  while 
the  Coun(5il  was  sitting.  It  no  longer  exists,  except  in  engravings. 
It  has  commonly  been  attributed  to  Holbein,  but,  of  late  years,  this 
has  been  questioned,  and  attempts  have  been  made  to  prove,  from 
j)arlicular  figures  and  dresses,  that  it  was  painted  at  least  sixty 
years  before  Holbein  was  born,  and  probably  by  Glauber,  whose 
name  appears  on  one  of  the  ligures. 


CONVENTS.  185 

gaze  of  worldly  eyes,  admits  the  visitor  to  the  presence 
of  the  Abbess  in  the  parlour,  a  spacious,  but  empty, 
bare,  and  comfortless  room.  She  appeared  to  be  about 
sixty,  during  twenty-two  years  of  which  she  had  never 
crossed  the  threshold  of  her  convent.  She  was  ex- 
tremely active  and  obliging,  without  any  taint  of  the 
ascetic  or  affectedly  demure.  She  spoke  willingly,  as 
was  natural,  of  the  happiness  and  tranquillity  of  her 
spiritual  family,  and,  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  of  the  late 
Queen  of  Prussia,  v/ho  had  saved  them.  A  black 
gown,  like  a  sack,  any  thing  but  fashioned  to  show  the 
shape,  descended  from  the  shoulders  to  the  toes  in  one 
unvarying  diameter.  A  thick  white  bandage  wrapped 
up  the  neck  to  the  very  chin,  and  was  joined  below  to 
a  broad  tippet  of  the  same  colour,  which  entirely  co- 
vered the  shoulders  and  breast.  The  eyebrows  peep- 
ed forth  from  beneath  another  white  bandage,  which 
enveloped  the  brow,  covered  the  hair,  and  was  joined 
behind  to  the  ample  black  veil,  which  the  Abbess  had 
politely  thrown  back.  The  whole  dress  consisted  of 
coarse  plain  black  and  white,  without  a  tittle  of  orna- 
ment either  in  good  or  bad  tasto. 

On  the  parlour  table  lay  a  number  of  work-bags, 
pin-cases,  pin-cushions,  and  similar  trifles,  the  manufac- 
ture of  which  employs  the  leisure  hours  of  the  brides 
of  heaven.  It  is  expected  that  the  visitor  shall  make 
a  purchase ;  and  he  does  it  the  more  willingly  in  this 
case,  because  the  convent,  though  not  at  all  wealthy, 
educates  gratuitously  a  number  of  poor  female  chil- 
dren. No  better  way  could  have  been  devised  of  cm- 
ploying  the  time  which,  in  spite  of  devotion,  must  hang 
heavy  on  the  hands  of  a  nun.  "  Pray  without  ceasing," 
is  a  difficult  injunction,  even  for  young  ladies.  It  was 
this  view  of  public  advantage  alone  which,  on  the  in- 
tercession of  the  late  queen,  saved  the  convent  from 
abolition.  The  nun  was  allowed  to  separate  herself 
from  the  world,  but  only  to  perform  the  duties  of  a 
mother. 

24 


186  ERFURTH. 

The  church,  with  its  images  and  ornaments,  display- 
ed, as  might  be  expected,  a  huge  profusion  of  miUine- 
rj,  in  the  very  worst  style  of  satin  and  gilding.  The 
images,  and,  above  all,  those  of  the  Virgin,  on  whose 
adornment  her  virgin  devotees  had  bestowed  all  their 
simple  skill  and  pious  industry,  were  horrible. 

It  is  even  allowed  to  visit  the  cells,  the  Abbess  hav- 
ing previously  taken  care  to  remove  the  inhabitants. 
The  cell  was  about  ten  feet  long,  by  six  broad.  Though 
the  weather  was  still  extremely  cold,  there  was  neither 
stove  nor  fire-place  ;  and  the  only  window  looked  out 
upon  a  small  inner  court,  which,  in  summer,  is  a  gar- 
den. In  one  corner  stood  a  low  bed,  with  coarse,  but 
clean  green  curtains,  so  narrow,  that  even  a  nun  must 
lie  very  quiet  to  lie  comfortably,  A  few  religious 
daubings  misadorned  the  walls ;  on  a  small  table  lay  a 
few  religious  books,  and  beside  them  stood  a  glass  case 
containing  a  waxen  figure  of  a  human  body  in  the  most 
revolting  state  of  corruption,  covered  and  girt  round 
by  its  crawling  and  loathsome  destroyers.  This  was 
the  furniture  of  the  nun's  cell  ;  every  thing  simple  and 
serious  ;  nothing  but  the  light  of  Heaven  to  put  her  in 
mind  of  the  world  she  had  quitted. 

In  some  particulars,  the  rigour  of  the  strict  monastic 
rule  has  been  relaxed.  The  nuns  are  allowed  to  converse 
alone  with  their  friends  at  the  parlour  grate ;  former- 
ly it  was  necessary  that  two  sisters  should  be  present. 
But  the  law  of  absolute  seclusion  is  unrelentingly  main- 
tained ;  the  nun,  having  once  taken  the  veil,  never 
again  crosses  the  threshold  of  the  convent.  It  is  right 
it  should  be  so,  if  a  convent  is  to  exist  at  all.  The 
moment  this  rule  is  relaxed,  a  nunnery  becomes  mere- 
ly a  boarding-house,  and  one  of  a  very  questionable 
kind.  At  the  same  time,  it  is  more  than  doubtful, 
whether  the  Prussian  government  would  visit  a  run- 
away nun  with  any  punishment,  or  compel  her  to  re- 
turn to  her  religious  confinement.  The  days  in  which 
pretty  girls  were  built  up  in  stone  walls  for  preferring  a 


aOTHA.  187 

corporeal  to  a  spiritual  bridegroom  are  over,  and  the 
truant  damsel  would  probably  be  left  to  the  chastise- 
ment of  her  own  conscience.  The  noviciate  is  two 
years,  a?  d,  during  the  preceding  two  years,  five  young 
ladies  had  taken  the  veil.  The  permission  of  the  go- 
vernment is  necessary;  for,  without  the  royal  sanction, 
no  woman  dare  marry  herself  to  Heaven.  The  pre- 
dilection for  such  matches,  however,  is  rapidly  disap- 
pearing. The  number  of  sisters  in  this  convent  is  se- 
venteen. At  the  accession  of  the  present  Abbess  they 
were  fifty-six.  They  had  died  out,  most  of  them,  she 
said,  in  a  good  old  age,  and  candidates  had  not  come 
forward  in  sufficient  numbers  to  replace  them. 

Circumstances  prevented  me  from  indulging  in  more 
than  a  hasty  glance  at  Gotha,  another  small  capital  of 
a  small  state.  It  has  more  the  air  of  a  town  than 
Weimar,  but  has  not  more  of  the  bustle  of  life,  and  far 
less  of  its  pleasures  and  elegant  enjoyments.  Gotha 
has  not  maintained  the  literary  character  which  it  had 
begun  to  acquire  under  Ernest  II.  Himself  a  man  of 
science,  he  drew  men  of  science  to  his  court,  and  all 
public  institutions  connected  with  learning  flourished 
beneath  his  liberality.  His  successor,  the  late  Duke, 
who  died  in  1822,  was  of  retired  and  eccentric  habits, 
bordering  occasionally  on  the  iiypochondriac.  Though 
allowed  not  to  be  without  talent,  and  supposed  to  have 
even  written  romances,  he  sought  his  enjoyments  chief- 
ly in  music.  Many  people  would  not  reckon  the 
want  of  a  theatre  a  misfortune  in  a  town ;  but,  in  a 
small  German  capital,  where  the  court  affects  no  pa- 
rade, and  patronizes  no  other  mode  of  amusement,  no- 
thing could  be  a  surer  sign  of  its  Trophonian  qualities. 
The  Goths  occasionally  pack  themselves  into  coaches, 
and  make  a  journey  of  forty  miles,  even  in  the  depth 
of  winter,  to  hear  an  opera  in  Weimar. 

Eisenach  is  the  most  wealthy  and  populous  town  in 
the  duchy  of  Weimar,  and  sends  a  whole  member  to 
parliament.     With  a  population  not  exceeding  ten  thou- 


188  ERFURTII. 

sand  inhabitants,  it  was  reckoned,  till  within  these  few 
years,  among  the  most  flourishing  of  the  manufacturing 
towns  so  frequent  between  Leipzig  and  Frankfort. 
Seduced  bj  the  protection  which  the  Continental  Sys- 
tem seemed  to  promise,  its  capitalists  forsook  the  ma- 
nufacture of  wool  for  that  of  cotton.  They  had  just 
advanced  far  enough  to  entertain  sanguine  hopes  of  ul- 
timately succeeding,  when  the  unexpected  changes  in 
political  relations  again  opened  the  German  markets  to 
England,  and  their  cotton  manufactures  were  blighted. 
One  of  the  most  ingenious  and  persevering  among  their 
capitalists  told  me,  that,  during  the  former  period,  he 
had  employed  nearly  four  hundred  persons  in  cotton 
spinning, — a  large  scale  for  an  establishment  in  a  small 
Saxon  town.  After  attempting  in  vain  to  struggle  on 
after  the  peace,  he  found  it  necessary  to  follow  the  ex- 
ample of  others,  dismiss  the  greater  part  of  his  work- 
men, return  with  the  rest  to  wool,  adhere  to  the  com- 
mercial congress  of  Darmstadt,  and  cry  loudly  for  pro- 
hibitory duties  against  England. 

The  ruins  of  the  Wartburg,  an  ancient  residence  of 
the  Electors  of  Saxony,  hang  majestically  above  the 
town  on  a  wooded  eminence,  overlooking  the  most 
beautiful  portion  of  the  Thuringian  forest.  It  was 
here  that  the  elector  did  Luther  the  friendly  turn  of 
detaining  him  ostensibly  as  a  prisoner,  to  secure  him 
against  the  hostility  of  the  church,  whom  his  boldness 
before  the  diet  at  Worms  had  doubly  incensed ;  and, 
among  the  few  apartments  still  maintained  in  some  sort 
of  repair,  is  that  in  which  the  Reformer  lightened  the 
tedium  of  his  durance,  by  completing  his  translation  of 
the  Bible.  In  the  pious  vi^ork  he  was  often  interrupt- 
ed by  the  Devil,  who  viewed  its  progress  with  dismay, 
but  who  could  not  have  been  treated  with  greater  con- 
tempt by  St.  Dunstan  himself  than  by  the  Reformer. 
Having  appeared  in  vain,  not  only  in  his  own  infernal 
personality,  but  under  the  more  seducing  forms  of  indo- 
lence, lukewartnness,  and  love  of  worldly  grandeur,  he 


LUTHER.  1S9 

at  length  assumed  the  shape  of  a  large  blue  fly.  But 
Luther  knew  Satan  in  all  his  disguises,  rebuked  him 
manfully,  and  at  length,  losing  all  patience  as  the  con- 
cealed devil  still  buzzed  round  his  pen,  started  up,  and 
exclaiming,  Willst  du  dann  nicht  ruhig  bleiben  /*  hurled 
his  huge  ink  bottle  at  the  prince  of  darkness.  The 
diabolical  intruder  disappeared,  and  the  ink,  scattered 
on  the  wall,  remains  until  this  day,  a  visible  proof  of 
the  great  Reformer's  invulnerability  to  all  attacks  of 
the  evil  one.  The  people,  no  less  superstitious,  in 
their  own  way,  than  the  devotees  of  the  opposing 
church,  look  with  horror  on  the  sceptics  who  find  in 
the  story  merely  the  very  credible  fact,  that  the  ho- 
nest Reformer,  who  by  no  means  possessed  the  placi- 
dity of  uncle  Toby,  had  lost  his  temper  at  the  buzzing 
of  an  importunate  fly.  Werner,  who,  notwithstanding 
the  frequent  mysticism  of  his  theology,  and  the  irre- 
gularity of  his  fancy,  has  delineated  Luther,  inUhe  Weihe 
der  Kraft,  with  more  force  than  any  other  German 
poet,  represents  him  as  so  exhausted  and  abstracted 
from  the  world,  after  intense  study,  that  for  a  while  he 
does  not  know  his  own  father  and  mother. 

On  entering,  from  Saxony,  the  Electorate  of  Hesse 
Cassel,  both  nature  and  man  present  a  different  ap- 
pearance. There  is  more  of  the  forest;  the  country 
IS  a  heap  of  moderately  elevated  ridges,  stretching 
across  each  other  in  every  variety  of  form  and  direc- 
tion, and  principally  covered  with  beech  woods.  All 
the  cultivation  lies  in  the  narrow  vallies  which  run  be- 
tween them,  occasionally  climbing  the  slope  a  short 
way,  and  encroaching  on  the  forest  just  far  enough  to 
show  how  much  may  still  be  gained.  From  their  po- 
sition and  confined  extent,  the  vallies  are  exposed,  in 
this  climate,  to  excessive  moisture,  and,  to  judge  from 
the  appearance  the  fields  presented  after  a  day's  mo- 
derate rain,  the  peasantry  follow  a  very  imperfect,  or 

*  Wilt  thou  not  be  quiet ! 


190  HESSE. 

a  very  indolent  system  of  draining.  Many  fields  were 
under  water,  and  yet  rivulets  close  bj,  into  which  it 
might  easily  have  heon  carried  off.  Satisfied  with 
having  one  mode  of  doing  a  thing,  however  imperfect 
or  inconvenient  it  may  be,  they  never  think  of  looking 
about  for  a  better. 

With  capital,  and  without  institutions  that  depress 
agriculture,  an  immense  addition  might  be  made  to  the 
productiveness  of  this  part  of  Hesse,  both  in  improv- 
ing what  is  already  cultivated,  and  in  gaining  what  the 
Thuringian  forest  still  retains;  for  by  far  the  greater 
part  of  these  ridges  might  be  successfully  cultivated  to 
the  very  summit.  A  portion  of  wood  must  always  be 
retained  for  fuel.  Though  coal  is  by  no  means  rare, 
the  Hessians,  like  all  other  Germans,  have  strong  pre- 
judices against  using  it.  Their  coal,  they  say,  has  so 
much  sulphur  in  it,  that  it  produces  an  intolerably  of- 
fensive smell.  The  very  same  objection  is  made  at 
Dresden  to  the  coal  worked  in  the  vicinity  of  Tharant, 
and  at  Vienna  to  the  coals  of  GEdenburg ;  and,  every 
where,  the  fossil  is  left  to  those  to  whose  poverty  its 
cheapness,  in  comparison  with  wood,  is  an  important 
consideration.  Nothing  but  the  scarcity  and  conse- 
quent rise  in  the  price  of  wood  will  force  a  market  for 
coals.  In  Saxony  this  effect  is  beginning  to  be  felt  al- 
ready. 

The  Westphalian  peasantry,  like  all  their  neigh- 
bours, are  chiefly  hereditary  tenants,  and  you  will  find 
men  among  them  who  boast  of  being  able  to  prove, 
that  they  still  cultivate  the  same  farms  on  which  their 
ancestors  lived  before  Charlemagne  conquered  the  de- 
scendants of  Herrman,  or,  for  any  thing  they  know, 
before  Herrman  himself,  drawing  his  hordes  from  these 
very  vallies,  annihilated  the  legions  of  Varus.  They 
do  not  retain  a  single  regret  for  the  kingdom  of  West- 
phalia, nor  have  they  any  reason  to  do  so.  It  was  the 
unsparing  domination  of  a  foreigner  ;  it  was  a  period 
of  extravagant  expenditure  for  purposes  of  foreign  po« 


THE  PEASANTRY.  191 

licy  or  private  profligacy,  and,  at  every  turn,  the  new 
forms  of  the  French  administration  were  rubbing 
against  some  old  affection  or  rooted  habit.  Napoleon 
could  not  bribe  them  to  any  amicable  feeling  towards 
him,  even  by  pretending  to  annihilate  any  cramping 
feudal  relations  which  might  still  exist  between  them 
and  their  landlords.  They  felt  that  they  were  more 
impoverished  than  ever,  by  a  power  which  had  no 
claim  to  impoverish  them  at  all,  and  were  treated  as 
foreigners  in  their  own  country.  They  could  neither 
endure  French  insolence,  nor  reckon  in  French  money; 
"but  now,"  say  they,  "  we  know  again  where  we  are." 

In  body  they  are  a  stouter  made  race  of  men  than 
the  Saxons,  with  broader  visages  and  more  florid  com- 
plexions;  but  they  have  likewise  a  more  stolid  expres- 
sion. They  retain  very  generally  the  old  costume, 
tight  pantaloons,  a  loose  short  jacket,  commonly  of 
blue  cloth,  and  a  very  low  crowned  hat  with  an  im- 
mense breadth  of  brim,  from  beneath  which  they 
allow  their  shaggy  locks  to  grow  unshorn,  not  neatly 
plaited,  as  among  the  young  men  of  some  of  the  Swiss 
Cantons,  but  seeking  their  own  tangled  way  over  the 
shoulders  and  down  the  back,  af  er  the  fashion  of  the 
students.  The  students,  again,  cite  the  Westphalian 
peasantry  to  prove,  that  the  Germans  who  fought 
against  Varus  undoubtedly  wore  long  hair ;  and  thence 
conclude,  that  a  barber's  scissars  must  be  as  fatal  to 
the  spirit  of  German  independence,  as  Dalilah's  were 
to  the  strength  of  Saruoon. 

The  villages  have  much  more  of  the  Bavarian  than 
of  the  Saxon  character,  and  display,  externally  at 
least,  the  utmost  squalor.  The  only  tolerable  dwell- 
ing is  generally  that  of  the  postmaster ;  the  others 
are  wooden  hovels,  dark,  smoky,  patched,  and  ruinous. 
The -crowds  of  begging  children  that  surround  you  at 
every  stage,  (an  importunacy  to  which  you  are  seldom 
exposed  in  other  parts  of  Germany,)  prove  that  there 
must  be  poverty  as  well  as  slovenliness.     Of  the  lat- 


192  CASSEL. 

ter  there  is  abundance  in  every  thing.  Even  the  httle 
country  church,  and  its  simple  cemetery,  which  the 
poorest  peasantry  commonly  love  to  keep  neat  and 
clear,  follow  the  general  rule,  that  it  is  enough  if  a 
thing  barely  serve  its  purpose.  At  Hoheneichen,  the 
church  was  a  miserable  tottering  heap  of  broken 
walls,  where  many  a  man  would  not  willingly  lodge  his 
horse;  and,  in  the  church-yard,  while  the  tomb-stones 
glared  in  all  colours  of  the  rainbow,  bristled  with 
cherubs  like  Bologna  sausages,  and  seraphim  sinking 
beneath  the  load  of  their  own  embonpoint,  neglected 
goosberry  bushes,  heaps  of  straw,  and  piles  of  winter 
fuel,  were  mingled  with  the  new  made  graves. 

Cassel  stands  partly  at  the  bottom,  partly  on  the 
steep  ascent,  and  partly  on  the  summit  of  an  eminence 
washed  by  the  Fulda.  No  two  parts  of  a  city  can  be 
more  distinct  in  external  character  than  the  lower  and 
upper  towns.  The  former  is  huddled  together  on  the 
river,  at  the  bottom  of  the  hill ;  its  streets  are  nar- 
row, dark,  and  confused ;  the  houses  consist  mostly  of 
a  frame  of  wood-work,  in  which  the  beams  cross  each 
other,  leaving  numerous  and  irregular  interstices;  these 
interstices  are  then  built  up  with  stone  or  brick. 
Every  floor  projects  over  the  inferior  one,  so  that  the 
house  is  much  broader  at  top  than  at  bottom  :  and 
some  narrow  lanes  are  thus,  in  a  manner,  arched  over, 
to  the  utter  exclusion  of  light  and  air.  The  upper 
town,  again,  originally  begun  by  French  refugees,  who 
brought  their  arts  and  industry  to  Cassel  on  the  re- 
vocation of  the  edict  of  Nantz,  is  light,  airy,  and  ele- 
gant, from  its  style  of  building  as  well  as  from  its  site. 
The  electoral  palace  occupies  great  part  of  a  street, 
or  rather  of  a  delightful  terrace,  which  runs  along  the 
brow  of  the  hill,  looking  down  on  the  Augarten^  the 
combined  Kensington  and  Hyde  Park  of  Cassel,  and 
far  and  wide  over  the  hills  and  vallies  of  Thuringia, 
and  the  windings  of  the  Fulda.  Squares  like  those  of 
Cassel  are  rare  things  in  the  secondary  German  capi- 


THE  CITY.  193 

tals.     The    Museum,  a  majestic  Ionic   building,  forms 
nearly  one  side  of  the  Friderichsplatz,  and  is   its  prin- 
cipal ornament,  while  its  greatest   defect  is  a  statue  of 
the   Elector   Frederick,    who   built   the    museum,   and 
gave  his  name  to  the  square,  standing  on  legs  like    the 
bo  lies  of  his  own    hoa^s.     When   the  Frencli   thn^w  it 
down,  in    furtherance  of  their   plan  to  remove  everj 
thifig  which    might  recal    the  memory  of  the  expeiled 
family,  whose  crown  was  given  to  the  pu[)pet  Jerome, 
they  had  the  impudence  to  make  this  want  of  taste  in 
the  scul[)tor  a  pretext  for  their   mischievous   violence. 
The  faithful    Hessians   contrived   to  preserve    the  old 
E'ector,  and   on   their    liberation,  restored   him   to  the 
pedestal  in  his    original    corj)ulence  of  calf.     The  Kd- 
nigsplatz  i^  the   tinest  square   m  Germany,  if  that  may 
be  called  a  square   which  is   oval.     It   is  the   point  of 
union  between  the  Lower  and  Upper  towns;    and  the 
six  streets   which  run  off  from  it,  at  equal  distances  in 
its  circumference,  produce  a  very  marked  echo.     The 
sounds  uttered  by  a  person  standing  in  the  centre  are 
distinctly    repeated  six  times.     The  French   erected  a 
statue   of  Napoleon    in  the  centre  ;    the   Hessians   ob- 
served that    their  favourite    echo  immediately  became 
dumb,  and    will  not  believe  that  a  statue  of  their  own 
Elector  would  have  equally  injured  the  reverberation, 
by  displacing    the    point  of  utterance    from    the  exact 
centre.     As  the  Allies   advanced,  first    the  nose  disap- 
peared from  the  French  Emperor,  then   an  arm,  then 
he  was    hurled    down  altogether,  a  lamp-post    was  set 
up  in  his  place,  and  the  echo  again  opened  its  mouth. 

Cassel  contains  only  about  twenty  thousand  inhabi- 
tants, exclusive  of  the  military,  who  are  over-numer- 
ous, but  have  been  the  source,  if  not  of  respectability 
and  safety  to  the  country,  yet  of  millions  to  the  elec- 
toral treasury.  The  population  is  said  to  have  been 
nearly  one-half  greater  under  Jerome.  This  is  easily 
credible,  but  is  just  the  reverse  of  any  proof  of  pros- 
perity. Cassel  was  then  the  capital  of  a  much  more 
25 


194  CASSEL. 

extensive  kingdom  than  the  proper  electorate ;  a 
greater  number  of  public  functionaries,  and  a  greater 
military  establishment,  were  maintained.  Round  the 
gay,  dissolute,  and  extravagant  court  of  Westphalia, 
crowded  a  host  of  rapacious  foreigners  and  idle  hang- 
ers-on, who  were  unknown  under  the  homely,  nay,  the 
parsimonious  administration  of  the  expelled  Elector. 
But  these  classes  only  fill  the  streets  of  a  capital  at 
the  expense  of  the  morals  and  prosperity  of  the  coun- 
try, and  no  where  were  both  these  consequences  more 
severely  felt  than  in  Hesse.  Notwithstanding  the 
bustle  and  splendour  which  Jerome  created  amongst 
them,  the  Hessians,  though  as  fond  of  these  things  as 
other  people,  do  most  cordially  detest  him  and  his 
whole  crew  of  corrupters  and  squanderers.  Jerome 
perhaps  did  not  wish  to  do  mischief  for  its  own  sake; 
few  miscreants  do;  he  would  have  had  no  objection 
that  every  man  and  woman  in  his  kingdom  should  have 
been  as  idle,  and  worthless,  and  dissolute  as  himself; 
but  he  laboured  under  such  a  want  of  head,  such  a 
horror  of  business,  and  such  a  devotion  to  grovelling 
pleasures,  that  it  was  only  by  mistake  he  could  stum- 
ble on  any  thing  good.  He  was,  in  fact,  a  good  natur- 
ed,  silly,  unprincipled  voluptuary,  whose  only  wish  was 
to  enjoy  the  sensual  pleasures  of  royalty,  without  sub- 
mitting to  its  toils,  but,  at  the  same  time,  without  any 
natural  inclination  to  exercise  its  rigours.  His  profli- 
gate expenditure  was  as  pernicious  to  the  country  as 
the  war  itself;  on  this  score  he  was  doomed  to  read 
many  a  scolding  epistle,  and  some  threatening  ones, 
from  Napoleon;  but,  without  these  enjoyments,  Je- 
rome could  not  have  conceived  what  royalty  was  good 
fur.  Tlie  man  did  not  even  give  himself  the  trouble 
to  learn  the  language  of  his  kingdom.  People  feared 
and  cursed  his  brother,  but  they  openly  despised  and 
laughed  at  him.  When,  on  his  flight,  he  carried  off 
what  he  could  from  the  public  treasury,  they  were 
thunderstruck,  not  at  the  meanness  of  the   thing,  but 


THE  ELECTOR.  195 

at  the  possibility  of  King  Jerome  possessing  so  much 
forethought. 

The  capital  was  in  mourning  for  the  late  Elector. 
The  mourning  consisted  in  the  theatre  being  shut,  and 
in  people  expressing  their  hopes  that  the  son  would 
now  spend  like  a  prince  what  the  father  had  amassed 
like  a  miser.  The  late  Elector  went  regularly  to 
church,  was  no  habitual  drunkard  or  profane  swearer, 
and  left  behind  him,  according  to  the  univ^ersal  voice, 
at  least  forty  illegitimate  children,  and  as  many  mil- 
lions of  rix-dollars.  In  comparison  with  the  wants  of 
the  Elector  of  Hesse,  he  was  the  wealthiest  prince  in 
Europe.  The  foundation  of  the  treasure  had  been 
laid  by  his  father,  who  hired  out  his  troops  to  England 
for  the  American  war,  the  least  honourable  of  all 
ways  in  which  a  prince  can  fill  his  pockets.  He  him- 
self added  to  the  inheritance  by  what  his  friends  call 
fru2jality,  and  the  great  body  of  the  people  niggardli- 
ness. He.  turned  his  accumulating  capital  to  good  ac- 
count with  the  avidity  of  a  stock-jobber,  and  was  a 
dost  successful  money  lender.  No  sort  of  extrava- 
gance marked  his  court  or  his  personal  habits.  If  he 
gave  his  mistresses  titles,  these  cost  nothing ;  if  he 
gave  them  fortunes,  it  was  always  soberly.  Such 
thin<^s,  moreover,  are  too  much  n)atters  of  course  in 
Germany  to  excite  either  notice  or  dissatisfaction  ;  and 
even  in  this  department,  his  subjects  justly  found  him 
moderate,  when  compared  with  the  royal  lustling  from 
France.  His  favourite,  the  Countess  of  H n,  en- 
joys the  reputation  of  having  often  seduced  him  irjto 
acts  of  liberality  towards  others,  at  which,  but  for  her, 
he  otherwise  would  have  shuddered.  The  young 
Elector,  who  has  now  succeeded,  was  put  upon  an  al- 
lowance which  would  have  proved  insufficient  for  a 
prince  much  more  accustomed  to  controul  his  passions  ; 
ne  therefore  got  into  debt,  and  it  has  happened,  it  is 
averred,  that  the  very  monev  borrowed  from  the  fa- 
ther at  four  per  cent.,  has  been  lent  to  the  son  at  thir- 


196  CASSEL. 

ty.  The  Elector,  on  the  approach  of  the  evil  day 
which  drove  him  from  his  slates,  providentially  placed 
his  riches  beyond  the  usurper's  reach.  During  his 
exile,  savings  were  made  even  on  tfie  interest,  in  his 
frugal  household  at  Prague.  On  his  restoration,  he  re- 
turned to  the  old  course  ;  no  act  of  liberality  diminish- 
ed the  sum  of  his  treasures,  and  no  relaxation  of  the 
burdens  winch  press  down  this  impoverislied  country 
dried  up  any  of  the  sources  of  his  gain.  He  imme- 
diately seized  all  the  domains  wliich  had  been  sold  un- 
der Jerome,  and  refused,  till  his  dying  day,  to  repay 
the  purchasers  a  sin^ie  farthing  of  the  price. "^  I  was 
struck  with  the  freedom  of  a  Hessian  clergyman,  in  a 
funeral  sermon  on  the  Elector's  death.  Having  paint- 
ed his  merits,  such  as  they  were,  he  said  :  ''But  truth 
forbids  me  to  go  larther,  and  where  so  much  was  ex- 
cellent, one  faihng  may  be  conceded,  and  must  not  be 
concealed.     One   virtue,  one    most  fair  and   Christian 

*  The  simple  f*Tonnd  on  which  he  proceeded  was  this  :  Je- 
rome was  only  an  armed  robber  ;  the  sales  which  he  made  of  my 
domains  were  null,  'or  he  had  no  right  to  make  them  ;  and  you, 
the  purchasers  on  a  bad  title,  may  bring-  your  action  against  him 
for  restitution  of  the  price,  as  you  best  can.  The  kingdom  of 
WestphaPa,  said  the  purchasers,  was  recognized  by  the  treaty  of 
Tilsit.  Yes,  answered  the  Elector,  by  Austria,  Russia,  and  Prus- 
sia, but  not  by  me.  It  is  only  from  these  powers,  argued  the  pur- 
chasers, that  your  Highness  again  received  your  estates,  and  the 
treaty  of  Paris  expressly  provides  that,  in  all  restored  and  ceded 
countries,  the  citizens  shall  retain  undisturbed  possession  of  what- 
ever property  they  may  have  acquired  under  the  late  govern- 
ments. Very  iiUely,  replied  ttie  Elector,  but  I  was  no  party  to 
that  treaty,  and  other  people  had  no  right  to  dispose,  in  any  way, 
of  my  property.  The  purchasers  applied  for  justice  to  the  Diet, 
and  their  complaint  was  favourably  listened  to;  Wangenhelm,  the 
envoy  of  Wirtemberg,  was  ordered  to  investigate,  and  report  upon, 
their  claims.  In  the  mean  time,  the  Elector  died,  and  liis  succes- 
sor seemed  disposed  to  be  more  liberal.  At  least,  as  the  day  ap- 
pointed for  receiving  the  report  approached,  the  purchasers  pray- 
ed the  Diet  to  delay  proceeding,  as  the  cabinet  of  Cassel  had  giv- 
en them  assurances  which  promised  an  amicable  teroiination  of 
the  dispute. 


THE  ELECTOR.  197 

virtue,  was  awanting.  Had  there  but  been  more  ge- 
nerosity and  liberality,  every  eye  in  his  dominions 
would  have  wept  on  tlie  grave  of  William  I."  The 
sermon  was  not  only  preached,  but  likewise  printed. 

S'lill,  though  stained  with  tlie  most  unprincely  of  all 
failings,  he  must  have  possessed  redeeming  quali  ies, 
for  his  people  was  attached  to  him.  He  was  ati'able 
in  the  extreme  ;  the  meanest  of  his  subjects  might  ap- 
proach him  without  uneasiness,  if  his  object  was  not  to 
ask  money  ;  and  he  was  strictly  just,  in  so  far  as  a 
prmce  so  fond  of  prerogative  could  be  just.  Above 
all,  his  government  was  to  his  subjects  one  of  benefi- 
cence, coming  after  the  public  oppression  and  private 
degradation  of  the  kingdom  of  Westphalia;  seven 
years  of  disgraceful  and  useless  extravagance  had 
taught  them  to  regaid  even  his  parsimony  with  indul- 
gence. When  he  returned,  Cassel  voluntarily  poured 
out  her  citizens  to  welcome  him  ;  thousands  crowded 
from  the  re  notest  corners  of  the  land  to  h  il  him  on 
the  frontiers;  the  peasants,  in  the  extravagance  of 
their  joy,  literally  led  on  the  cavalcade  in  somersets, 
and,  on  the  shoulders  of  his  subjects,  the  old  man  was 
borne  in  tears  into  the  capital  of  his  fathers. 

In  Cassel,  it  is  as  much  a  matter  of  course  to  visit 
the  Electoral  residence,  Wilhelmshohe^  as  it  is  in  Paris 
to  go  to  Versailles.  It  stands  on  the  eastern  slope  of  a 
wooded  eminence,  about  two  miles  to  the  westward  of 
the  town.  Earlier  princes  had  chosen  the  site  and  be- 
gun the  work,  l]ut  (he  late  Elector  was  more  indus- 
trious than  theti^  al!  ;  for,  next  to  making  money  and 
getting  children,  his  greatest  pleasure  was  to  build  pa- 
laces. The  main  body  of  the  palace  is  oval,  present- 
ing a  long,  lofty,  simple  front,  without  a!»y  ornament, 
except  an  Ionic  portico  in  the  centre.  The  wings  are 
entirely  faced  with  the  same  order,  but  the  low  range 
of  arches  which  connects  them  with  the  principal 
building  offends  the  eye  grievously.  The  main  front 
itself  is  too  poor;  the  portico,  projecting  from  the  bare 


19S  CASSEL. 

walls,  is  good  in  itself,  but  ought  to  be  in  better  com- 
pany. Simplicity  is  an  excellent  thins:,  but  only  in  its 
proper  place,  and  Wiliiin  proper  bounds.  It  is  incon- 
gruous that  the  huge  pile  of  the  principal  building 
should  stand  so  utterly  mean  and  unfinished-looking, 
while  the  attendant  wings  are  loaded  with  Ionic  pillars. 
Even  large  masses  of  surface,  generally  imposing  things 
in  architecture,  are  not  gained,  for  it  is  frittered  down 
by  the  rows  of  small  windows.  Who  suggested  the 
barbarous  idea  of  emblazoning  the  name  of  the  build- 
ing on  the  frieze  of  the  portico  ?  Jerome  changed  it 
into  JYapoleonshohe, 

The  well  wooded  hill  behind  is  crowned  by  a  tur- 
retted  building,  which  takes  its  name  from  a  colossal 
statue  of  Hercules  that  surmounts  it.  The  hollow  iron 
statue  is  so  capacious,  that  I  know  not  how  many  per- 
sons are  said  to  be  able  to  stand  comfortably  in  his 
calf,  dine  in  his  belly,  and  take  their  wine  in  his  head; 
At  his  feet  begin  the  waterworks  which  form  the  great 
attraction  of  Wilhelmshohe,  and  have  rendered  it  the 
Versailles  of  Germany.  The  streams  are  collected 
from  the  hill  within  the  building  itself,  commence  their 
artificial  course  by  playing  an  organ,  rush  down  the  hill 
over  a  long  flight  of  broad  steps,  pour  themselves  into 
a  capacious  basin,  issue  from  it  again  in  various  chan- 
nels, and  form,  still  hastening  downwards,  a  number  of 
small  cascades.  At  length  they  flow  along  a  ruined 
aqueduct,  take  all  at  once  a  leap  of  more  than  a  hun- 
dred feet  from  its  extremity,  where  it  terminates  on 
the  brink  of  a  precipice,  into  a  small  artificial  lake, 
from  whose  centre  they  are  finally  thrown  up  to  the 
height  of  a  hundred  and  thirty  feet  in  a  magnificent 
jet.  There  is  much  taste  and  ingenuity  in  many  of  the 
details  ;  but,  to  enjoy  the  full  eflect,  one  ought  to  see 
them  only  in  the  moment  of  their  full  operation.  He 
ought  neither  to  see  the  dry  channels,  the  empty  aque- 
ducts, the  plastered  precipices,  the  chiselled  rocks,  and 
the  miniature  imitations  of  columnar   basalt,  nor  wit- 


THE  ARTS.  199 

ness  any  of  the  various  notes  of  preparation,  the  shut- 
ting of  valves,  and  turning  of  cocks,  for  all  these  things 
injure  the  illusion. 

Though  Jerome  inhabited  the  palace,  and  even  built 
a  theatre,  in  which  his  own  box,  where  he  could  see 
without  being  seen,  is  (iited  up  with  the  most  useless 
voluptuousness,  and  never  fails  to  suggest  many  degra- 
ding stories  of  the  effeminate  debauchee,  the  French 
did  a  great  deal  of  mischief  in  the  grounds.  From 
mere  wanton  insolence,  they  broke  down  many  parts 
of  the  stone  ledge  which  ran  along  the  aqueduct  inter- 
nally, as  well  as  the  iron  railing  that  guarded  it  with- 
out, and  displaced  from  the  grottoes  various  water  dei- 
ties and  piles  of  fishes.  The  latter,  however,  do  not 
seem  to  have  deserved  any  mercy,  if  we  may  judge 
from  one  in  which  a  base  of  tortoises  and  lobsters  sup- 
ports a  pyramid  of  cod-fish,  dolphins,  and,  it  may  be, 
whales,  coarsely  cut  in  coarse  stone. 

The  [Marble  Bath,  and  other  edifices  of  Landgrave 
Charles,  are  in  a  much  more  complicated  and  ostenta- 
tious style  than  that  which  was  afterwards  introduced 
in  the  museum,  and  transferred  to  VVilhelmshohe.  1  he 
Marble  Bath,  though  it  really  contains  a  bath,  was 
merely  a  pretext  for  spending  money  and  marble.  It 
is  filled  with  statues,  and  the  walls,  where  they  are 
not  coated  with  party-coloured  marbles,  are  covered 
with  reliefs  as  large  as  life.  All  the  sculptures  are 
works  of  Monnot,  a  wholesale  artist  of  the  earlier  part 
of  the  last  century.  He  had  studied  and  long  worked 
in  Rome,  and  practice  had  given  him  the  art  of  cutting 
marble  into  human  shapes;  but  he  wanted  invention, 
no  less  than  elevation  and  purity  of  taste.  His  forms 
have  neither  dignity  nor  grace.  They  cannot  be  said 
altogether  to  want  expression;  Daphne  and  Arethnsa, 
pursued  by  Apollo  and  Alpheus,  look  just  like  ladies 
m  a  great  fright,  and  Calista  hangs  her  head  like  a  girl 
doing  penance ;  but  the  expression  is  common,  not  to 
►     say  vulgar.     The  gross  caricature  of  the  Dutch  paint- 


200  CASSEL. 

ers  is  in  its  place  in  an  alehouse,  but  is  intolerable  in  a 
classical  group  of  sculpture.  Yet  the  fallen  Callsta  is 
sculptured  in  all  the  grossness  of  her  shame  ;  one  of 
the  attendant  nymphs  presses  her  finger  firmly  on  the 
ocular  proof  of  the  fair  one's  frailty,  and  looks  at  Diana 
with  a  wao'glsh  vulgarity,  which  the  pure  and  offended 
goddess  would  not  have  tolerated  on  so  delicate  an  oc- 
casion. 

The  electoral  gallery  of  pictures  contains  many  val- 
uable oaintin^'s  ;  but  I  can  say  nothinof  about  them,  for 
both  times  I  endeavoured  to  see  them,  the  Herr  In-' 
spector  was  engaged  at  court,  although,  on  the  second 
occasion,  he  had  himself  fixed  the  hour.  To  be  sure, 
if  a  man  is  called  to  court,  he  must  go  ;  but  it  must  be 
a  very  thoughtless  court  which  allows  the  visiting  of  a 
public  gallery  to  depend  on  the  incidental  occupations 
of  a  keeper.  It  ought  either  to  be  committed  to  a 
person  who  shall  have  no  other  occupation,  or,  if 
enough  of  money  cannot  be  spared  from  other  plea- 
sures to  give  such  a  person  a  suitable  recompense,  let, 
at  least,  a  fixed  portion  of  his  time  be  dedicated  to  this 
purpose.  Moreover,  he  is  paid  in  reality  by  a  heavy 
dcuccur  levied  on  the  curious.  The  Elector,  that  his 
museums  and  galleries,  his  gardens  and  waterfalls, 
might  be  cheaply  kept,  intrusted  them  to  persons  al- 
ways numerous,  and  authorized  them  to  tax  the  visi- 
tors. In  the  north  of  Germany  you  often  have  the 
satisfaction  of  seeing  the  palm  of  a  councillor  of  state 
(^Hof-rath)  extended  for  his  half  guinea.  One  has 
not  much  reason  to  grumble  at  this,  so  long  as  it  does 
not  rise  to  extortion,  though  it  is  meanness  when  com- 
pared with  the  liberality  of  the  Italian  capitals,  or 
even  of  Dresden  and  Vienna;  but  it  is  vexatious  that 
his  gratification  should  be  impeded  because  a  public 
ofHcer  is  allowed  or  ordered  to  attend  to  something  else 
than  his  proper  duty. 

All  the  pictures  in  the  Catholic  church  are  from  the 


CASSEL.  201 

pencil  of  TIschbein,  (the  father,)*  who  has  been  for 
Cassel     In    painting    what    Monnot  was  in  sculpture, 
equally    industrious,    and    still    less  meritorious.     His 
pictures  have  no  character;  the  forms  are  clumsy  and 
incorrect;   the  expression  is  devoid  of  soul  and  mean- 
ing; the    attitudes    are    stilf;    the  colouring  is  weak 
and    watery.     His  Christs    are    in    general   the  most 
vulgar  looking    people,    and  the  angel   who  presents 
the  cup  in  the  Agony  is  the  most  familiar  looking  per- 
sonage   in     the    history   of    painting.      Although    the 
Italian  masters    had   perhaps    no    good  authority  for 
always  making  the  apostle  John  a  comely  youth,  with 
luxuriant  hair  and    a    glowing  countenance,  yet  they 
■were   possibly  as  much  in  the  right  as  historians,  and 
assuredly    much     more  in  the  right  as  painters  than 
Tischbein,   when  he   made  him  an  old,    and   what  is 
worse,    an  ugly  man    in    the    Crucifixion.     Sacristans 
are  not  always  good  authority  ;  therefore,  I    do  not 
believe  that    Albert    Diirer    ever    put  pencil  to  the 
eight  small   paintings  in  the  Sacristy  representing  the 
scenes  of  the  Passion.     Very  old   they  certainly  are, 
older  than  Diirer;  but   Diirer  would  never  have    in- 
dulged in  such  inaccurate  drawing,  such   gross  exag- 
gerations of  a  sort  of  nature  which,  to  please  in  paint- 
inir,  ouofht  rather  to  be   miti^nted.     The  soldiers  at- 
tending  the  Crucifixion,    and  the  executioners  in  the 
Flagellation,  are    downright    caricatures,    with    huge 
lumpish  noses,  like   balls  of  flesh  stuck  on  the  upper 
lip.     Such   pictures,    however    eagerly    they   may  be 
hunted    out,  can  have    no  value  but  as  curiosities  in 
the  history  of  the  art. 

*  Tischbein,  the  son,  to  whom  Gothe  has  addressed  some  eulo- 
gistic sonnets,  was  a  much  superior  artist.  He  devoted  himself  in 
Italy  to  the  study  of  the  antique.  The  designs  which  he  sketched 
for  an  edition  of  Homer  are  full  of  spirit. 

26 


^OS  GOTTINGEN. 


CHAPTER  VIL 

GOTTINGEN. 

Ei  !  gruss'  euch  Gfttt,  Collegia  I 
Wie  steht  ihr  in  Parade  da  ! 
Ihr  dumpfen  Sale,  gross  und  klein, 
J«tzt  kriegt  ihr  mich  nicht  mehr  hinein. 

•  Schwab. 

The  territory  of  Hanover  approaches  nearly  to 
the  walls  of  Cassel.,  The  rich  vallies  through  which 
the  Fulda  flows  give  promises  of  lieauty  and  fertih- 
ty,  on  which  the  traveller  afterwards  thinks  with  re- 
gret, when  he  is  toiling  through  the  sands  in  the 
northern  part  of  the  kingdom.  At  Miinden,  a  small, 
but  apparently  thriving  town,  the  Fulda  and  Werra, 
issuing  from  opposite  dells,  unite  and  form  the  Weser, 
which  is  already  covered  with  the  small  craft  that 
carries  on  the  trade  with  Bremen.  The  loftj  summits 
of  the  Harz  now  rise  in  the  distance,  and  you  enter 


the  U- 

Diversity  of  Goltingen. 

Though  the  youngest  of  the  German  universities  of 
reputation,  excepting  Berlin,  Gottingen  is  by  far  the 
most  celebrated  and  flourishing.  Munchausen,  the  ho- 
nest and  able  minister  of  George  II.,  who  founded  it 
in  1735,  watched  over  it  with  the  anxiety  of  a  parent. 
He  acted  in  a  spirit  of  the  utmost  liberality,  which,  to 
the  honour  of  the  Hanoverian  government,  has  never 
been  departed  from,  both  by  not  being  niggardly  wl.'ere 
any  really  useful  purpose  was  to  be  gained,  and  by 
treating  the  university  itself  with  confidence  and  indul- 
gence. He  acted,  moreover,  in  that  prudent  spirit 
which  does  not  attempt  too  much  at  once.  How  ma- 
ny splendid  schemes  have  failed,  because  their  parents^ 


COMPETITION  OF  PROFESSORS.  20« 

expecting  to  see  them  start  up  at  once  in  the  vigour  of 
youth,  like  Minerva  ready  armed  irom  the  head  oT  Ju- 
piter, had  not  patience  in  <j^uide  them  while  they  tot- 
tned  througn  the  jears  of  helpless  infancy.  Had 
M  jnchauseu  foreseen  what  the  expense  of  the  univer- 
sity would  in  time  amount  to,  he  probably  would  never 
have  founded  it.  The  original  annual  expenditure  was 
about  tifteen  thousand  rix-dollars,  (L.  2.000,)  it  now 
amounts  to  six  times  that  sum.  The  library  alone  con- 
sumes annually  nearly  one-half  of  the  whole  original 
expense. 

Gottmgen  is  manned  with  thirty-six  ordinary  profes- 
sors, three  theological,  seven  juridical,  eight  medical, 
including  botany,  chemistry,  and  natural  history  ;  the 
remaininge{<yhtecnform  the  philosophical  faculty.  Draw- 
ing is  a  regular  chair  in  the  philosophical  faculty,  and 
stands  between  mineralogy  and  astronomy.  The  fenc- 
ing-master and  dancing-master  are  not  so  highly  ho- 
noured, but  still  they  are  public  functionaries,  and  re- 
ceive salaries  from  government.  The  confusion  is  in- 
creased by  that  peculiarity  of  the  German  universities 
"which  allows  a  professor  to  give  lectures  on  any  topic 
he  pleases,  however  little  it  may  be  connected  with 
the  particular  department  to  which  he  has  been  ap- 
pointed. Every  professor  may  interfere,  if  he  chooses, 
Avith  the  provinces  of  his  colleagues.  The  Professor 
of  Natural  History  must  lecture  on  Natural  History, 
but  he  mav  likewise  teach  Greek  ;  the  Professor  of 
Latm  must  teach  Latm,  but,  if  he  chooses,  he  may  lec- 
ture on  Mathematics.  Thus  it  just  becomes  a  practi- 
cal question,  who  is  held  to  be  the  more  able  instruc- 
tor; and,  if  the  mathematical  prelections  of  a  Profes 
sor  of  Greek  be  reckoned  better  than  those  of  the 
person  regularly  appointed  to  teach  the  science,  the 
latter  must  be  content  to  lose  his  scholars  and  his  fees. 
It  is  i\\e  faculty^  not  the  science  to  which  a  man  is  ap- 
pointed, that  bounds  his  flight.  This  is  the  theory  of 
tHe  thing,  and  on  this  are  founded  the  frequent  com- 
plaints that,  in  the  German  universities,  the   principle 


\ 


a04  GOTTINGEN. 

of  competition  has  been  carried  preposterously  far. 
Fortunately,  the  most  important  sciences  are  of  such 
an  extent,  that  a  man  who  makes  himself  able  to  teach 
any  one  of  them  well,  can  scarcely  hope  to  teach  any 
other  tolerably  ;  yet  the  interference  of  one  teacher 
with  another  is  by  no  means  so  unfrequent  as  we  might 
imagine  ;  there  are  always  certain  "  stars  shooting  wild- 
ly from  their  spheres."  It  would  not  be  easy  to  tell, 
for  example,  who  is  Professor  of  Greek,  or  Latin,  or 
Oriental  Literature  ;  you  will  generally  find  two  or 
three  engaged  in  them  all.  A  Professor  of  Divinity 
may  be  alkrvved  to  explain  the  Epistles  of  St.  Paul,  for 
his  theobgical  intsrprelatiojis  must  be  considered  as 
something  quite  distinct  from  the  labours  of  the  philo- 
logist ;  but,  in  the  philosophical  faculty,  where,  in  re- 
gar<]  to  languages,  philology  alone  is  the  object,  I  found 
at  Gottingen  no  few^er  than  four  professors  armed  with 
Greek,  two  with  Latin,  end  two  with  Oriental  Litera- 
ture. One  draws  up  the  Gospel  of  John,  and  the  Acts 
of  the  Apostles  ;  a  second  opposes  to  him  the  first 
three  Evangelists,  the  fourth  being  already  enlisted  by 
his  adversary  ;  the  third  takes  them  both  in  flank  with 
the  Works  and  Days  of  Hesiod  ;  while  the  fourth  skir- 
mishes round  them  in  all  directions,  and  cuts  ofi^arious 
stragglers,  by  practical  lucubrations  in  Greek  syntax. 
Now,  if  people  think  that  they  will  learn  Greek  to  bet- 
ter purpose  from  Professor  Eichhorn's  Acts  of  the 
Apostles,  than  from  Professor  Tyschen's  three  Gos- 
pels, the  latter  must  just  dispense  with  his  students  and 
rix-dollars ; 

When  Greek  meets  Greek,  then  comes  the  tug  of  war. 

The  former  gentleman,  again,  leads  on  oriental  lite- 
rature under  the  banner  of  the  Book  of  Job  ;  the  lat- 
ter takes  the  field  undismayed,  and  opposes  to  him  the 
Prophecies  of  Isaiah.  But  Professor  Eichhorn  imme- 
diately unmasks  a  battery  of  "  Prelections  in  Arabian ;" 


BLUMENBACIL  205 

and  Professor  Tjschen,  apparently  exhausted  of  regu- 
lar troops,  throws  forward  a  course  of  lectures  on  the 
"Ars  Diplomatlca,"  to  cover  his  retreat. 

In  Latin,  too,  one  professor  starts  the  Satires  of  Per- 
sius  against  those  of  Horace,  named  by  another,  and 
Tully's  Offices  against  the  A  is  Poetica.  The  one  en- 
deavours to  jostle  the  other  by  adding  Greek  ;  but 
they  are  both  Yorkshire,  and  the  other  adds  Greek 
too.  The  juridical  faculty  of  Gottingen  contains  seven 
learned  professors.  Of  these  no  fewer  than  three 
were  reading  on  Justinian's  Inslitutes  in  the  same  ses- 
sion, two  of  them,  moreover,  using  the  same  text-book. 
Two  of  them  likewise  lectured  on  the  form  of  process 
in  civil  cases,  both  usiiig  the  same  text-book. 

Gottingen,  though  not  yet  an  hundred  years  old,  has 
already  exhibited  more  celebrated  men,  and  done  more 
for  the  progress  of  knowledge  in  Germany,  than  any 
other  similar  institution  in  the  country.  Meyer,  Mo- 
shcim,  Michaeiis,  and  Heyne,  are  names  not  easily 
eclipsed  ;  and,  in  the  present  day,  Blumenbach,  Gauss, 
Avhom  many  esteem  second  only  to  La  Place,  Hugo, 
Hceren,  and  Sartorius,  fully  support  the  pre-eminence 
of  the  Georgia  Augusta.  Europe  has  placed  Blumen- 
bach at  the  head  of  her  physiologists  ;  but,  with  all  his 
profound  learning,  he  is  in  every  thing  the  reverse  of 
the  dull,  plodding,  cumbersome  solidity,  which  we  have 
learned  to  consider  as  inseparable  from  a  German  5a- 
vant^ — a  most  ignorant  and  unfounded  prejudice.  G6the 
is  the  greatest  poet,  WollFthe  greatest  philologist,  and 
Blumenbach  the  greatest  natural  historian  of  Germa- 
ny ;  yet  it  Avould  be  difficult  to  find  three  more  jocular 
and  entertaining  men.  Blumenbach  has  not  an  atom 
of  academical  pedantry  or  learned  obscurity  about 
him  ;  his  conversation  is  a  series  of  shrewd  and  mirth- 
ful remarks  on  any  thing  that  comes  uppermost,  and 
such  likewise,  I  have  heard  it  said,  is  sometimes  his 
lecture.  Were  it  not  for  the  chaos  of  skulls,  skeletons, 
mummies,  aud  othermatcrialsof  his  art,  with  which  he^ 


206  GOTTINGEN. 

is  surrounded,  jou  would  not  easily  discover,  unless  jou 
brought  him  purposely  on  the  subject,  that  he  had  stu- 
died natural  history.  He  sits  among  all  sorts  of  odd 
things,  which  an  ordinary  person  would  call  lumber, 
and  which  even  many  of  those  who  drive  his  own 
science  could  not  make  much  of;  for  it  is  one  of  Blu- 
raenbach's  excellencies,  that  he  contrives  to  make  use 
of  every  thing,  and  to  find  proofs  and  illustrations 
where  no  other  person  would  think  of  looking  for 
them.  By  the  side  of  a  drawing  which  represented 
some  Botocuda  Indians,  with  faces  like  baboons,  cud- 
gelling each  other,  hung  a  portrait  of  the  beautiful 
Agnes  of  Mansfield.  A  South  American  skull,  the 
lowest  degree  of  human  conformation,  grinned  at  a 
Grecian  skull,  which  the  professor  reckons  the  perfec- 
tion of  crania.  Here  stood  a  whole  mummy  from  the 
Canary  Islands,  there  half  a  one  from  the  Brazils, 
with  long  strings  through  its  nose,  and  covered  with 
gaudy  feathers,  like  Papageno  in  the  Magic  Flute. 
Here  is  stuck  a  negro's  head,  there  lies  a  Venus,  and 
yonder  reclines,  in  a  corner,  a  contemplative  skeleton 
with  folded  hands.  Yet  It  is  only  necessary  to  hear 
the  most  passing  remarks  of  the  professor,  as  you 
stumble  after  him  through  this  apparent  confusion,  to 
observe  how  clearly  all  that  may  be  learned  from  it  is 
arranged  in  his  head,  in  his  own  scientific  combinations. 
The  only  thing  that  presented  external  order  was  a 
very  complete  collection  of  skulls,  showing  the  fact, 
by  no  means  a  new  one,  that  there  is  a  gradual  pro- 
gression in  the  form  of  the  skull,  from  apes,  up  to  the 
most  generally  received  models  of  human  beauty. 
"  Do  you  see  these  horns?"  said  he,  searching  among  a 
heap  of  oddities,  and  drawing  forth  three  horns, 
"  they  were  ftnce  worn  by  a  woman.  She  happened 
to  fall  and  break  her  head  ;  from  the  wound  sprouted 
this  long  horn  ;  it  continued  to  grow  for  thirty  years, 
arui  then  she  cast  it  ;  it  dropped  off.  In  its  place 
came  a  second   one ;  but   it  did  not  grow  so  long,  and 


SCIENTIFIC  COLLECTIONS.  20r 

dropped  off  too.  Then  this  third  one,  all  on  the  same 
spot;  but  the  poor  woman  died  while  the  third  was 
growlni(,  and  I  had  it  cut  I'rom  the  corpse."  They 
were  literally  three  genuine  horns.  The  last  two  are 
short,  thick,  and  nearly  straight;  but  the  first  is  about 
ten  inches  long,  and  completely  twisted,  like  the  horn 
of  a  ram.  It  is  round  and  rough,  of  a  brownish  colour, 
and  fully  half  an  inch  in  diameter  towards  the  root. 
All  three  are  hollow,  at  least  at  the  base.  The  termi- 
nation is  blunt  and  rounded.  Other  instances  of  the 
same  thing  have  been  known,  but  always  in  women; 
and  Blumenbach  says  it  has  been  ascertained  by  che- 
mical analysis,  that  such  horns  have  a  greater  affinity, 
in  their  composition,  with  the  horns  of  the  rhinoceros, 
than  with  those  of  any  other  animal. 

The  pre-eminence  of  Gottingen  is  equally  founded 
in  the  teachers  and  the  taught.  A  Gottingen  chair  is 
the  [lighest  reward  to  which  a  German  savant  aspires, 
and  to  stud}  at  Gottingen  is  the  great  wish  of  a  Ger- 
man youth.  There  are  good  reasons  for  this,  both 
with  the  one  and  the  otlier.  The  professor  is  more 
comi'ortable,  in  a  pecuniary  point  of  view,  and  possesses 
greater  facilities  for  pushing  on  his  science,  than  in  the 
other  universities;  the  student  finds (l|&  more  gentle- 
manly tone  of  manners  than  elsewhere,  and  has  within 
his  reach  better  opportunities  of  studying  to  good  pur- 
pose. This  arises  from  the  exertions  of  the  govern- 
ment to  render  the  different  helps  to  study, — the  li- 
brary, the  observatory,  the  collections  of  physical  in- 
struments, and  the  hospitals, — not  as  costly,  but  as 
useful  as  possible.  It  has  never  adopted  the  principle 
of  bribing  great  men  by  great  salaries, — a  principle 
naturally  acted  on  in  those  universities  which  possess 
no  other  recommendation  than  the  fame  of  the  teach- 
ers. It  has  chosen  rather  to  form  and' organize  those  i 
means  of  study  w^hich,  in  the  hands  of  a  man  of  ave- 
rage talent,  (and  such  are  always  to  be  had,)  are  much 
more  generally  and  effectively  useful,  than  the  prelec-  ^ 


208        '  GOTTINGEN. 

tions  of  a  persi)n  of  more  distinguished  genius  when 
deprived  of  this  indispensable  assistance.  The  profes- 
sors themselves  do  not  ascribe  the  rapidly  increasing 
prosperity  of  tlie  university  so  much  to  the  reputation 
of  distinguished  individuals  who  have  filled  so  many  of 
i(s  chairs,  as  to  the  pains  which  have  been  taken  to 
render  these  means  of  improvement  more  perfect  than 
they  are  to  be  found  united  in  any  sister  seminary. 
"Better  show-collections,"  said  Professor  Heeren,  very 
sensibly,  "may  be  found  elsewhere;  but  the  great  re- 
commendation of  ours  is,  that  they  have  been  made 
for  use,  not  for  show  ;  that  the  student  finds  in  them 
every  thing  he  would  wish  to  see  and  handle  in  his 
science.  This  is  the  true  reason  why  the  really  stu- 
dious prefer  Gottingen,  and  this  will  always  secure  our 
pre-eminence,  independent  of  the  fame  of  particular 
teachers;  the  latter  is  a  passing  and  changeable  thing, 
the  former  is  permanent." 

Above  all,  the  library  is  a  great  attraction  both  for 
the  teacher  and  the  learner.  It  is  not  only  the  mo^t 
complete  among  the  universities,  but  there  are  very 
few  royal  or  pufjlic  collections  in  Germany  v»^hich  can 
rival  it  in  real  utility.  It  is  not  rich  in  manuscripts, 
and  many  othec  libraries  surpass  it  in  typographical 
rarities,  and  specimens  of  typographical  luxury;  but 
none  contains  so  great  a  number  of  really  useful  books 
in  any  given  branch  of  knowledge.  The  principle  on 
which  they  proceed  is,  to  collect  the  sohd  learning  and 
literatui'e  of  the  world,  not  the  curiosities  and  splen- 
dours of  the  printing  art.  If  they  have  twenty  pounds 
to  spend,  instead  of  buying  some  very  costly  edition  of 
one  book,  they  very  wisely  buy  ordinary  editions  of 
four  or  five.  When  Heyne  undertook  the  charge  of 
the  library  in  1763,  it  contained  sixty  thousand  vc- 
A  lumes.  He  established  the  prudent  plan  of  increase, 
^  which  has  been  followed  out  with  so  much  success,  and 
the  number  is  now  nearly  two  hundred  thousand. 
^  They  complain  much  of  the  expense  of  English  books. 


THE  LIBRAUY.  «09 

No  compulsory  measures  are  taken  to  fill  the  shelves, 
except  that  the  booksellers  of  Goltingen  itself  must 
deliver  a  copy  of  every  work  which  tliey  publish. 

The  command  of  such  a  library  (and  the  manage- 
ment is  most  liberal)  is  no  small  recommendation  to  the 
studious,  whether  he  be  teacher  or  pupil;  but,  in  this 
case,  it  is  perhaps  of  still  more  importance  to  the  pro- 
fessors in  a  pecuniary  point  of  view.  The  thousand 
or  twelve  hundred  pounds  which  government  pays 
every  year  in  booksellers'  accounts,  cannot  be  reckon- 
ed an  additional  expense.  The  professors  themselves 
say,  that,  without  this,  it  would  be  necessary  to  lay  out 
as  much,  if  not  more,  in  augmenting  their  salaries;  for, 
if  they  had  to  purchase  their  own  books,  they  could 
not  afford  to  labour  on  salaries  varying  from  a  hundred 
and  fifty  to  two  hundred  pounds.  Meiners  calculated, 
in  the  beginning  of  the  present  century,  that  the  sav- 
ing thus  made  on  salaries  was  at  least  equal  to  the 
whole  expense  of  the  library.  In  other  universities,  I 
have  often  heard  the  professors  complain  bitterly  of 
the  expense  of  new  books,  to  which  they  were  sub- 
jected by  the  poverty  of  their  college  library.  They 
have  reason  to  complain,  when  we  think  of  the  num- 
ber of  new  books  which  a  public  teacher  in  any  de- 
partment finds  it  prudent  to  read,  and,  to  a  certain  ex- 
tent, uses,  although  there  may  be  very  few  of  thoni 
which  he  would  wish  permanently  to  possess.  If  the 
Professor  of  History,  for  example,  pays  thirty  rix-dol- 
lars  for  Hallam's  Middle  Ages,  or  a  Lecturer  on  Anti- 
quities pays  fifty  rix-dollars  for  Belzoni's  Egyptian  Re- 
searches, these  sums  are  most  important  drawbacks  on 
the  salary  of  a  German  professor,  yet  these  are  only 
single  books  in  a  single  language.  Now,  a  professor  of 
Halle  or  Jena  must  either  dispense  with  the  books  al- 
together, or  pay  for  them  out  of  his  own  pocket.  His 
brother  of  Gottingen  has  them  at  his  command  with- 
out laying  out  a  farthing.  Hence  it  is,  that  professors 
27 


21©  GOTTINGEN. 

in  other  universities  always  set  down  the  library  as  one 
great  recommendation  of  a  Gottlngen  chair. 

Another  Is  the  widows'  fund,  founded  by  public  au- 
thority, like  that  of  the  Church  of  Scotland,  and  still 
more  flourishing.  Though  the  Hanoverian  govern- 
ment has  never  thought  it  prudent  to  procure  or  re- 
tain a  distinguished  man  by  an  invidious  excess  of 
salary  above  his  brethren,  it  would  be  at  once  igno- 
rant and  unjust  to  suppose  that  it  has  been  in  any  way 
niggardly  towards  the  learned  persons  who  till  the 
chairs  of  Gottingen.  The  regular  salaries  are  from 
twelve  to  fifteen  hundred  rix-dollars,  exclusive  of  the 
fees.  Taking  the  salaries  in  the  mass  at  L.  200  Sler- 
llng,  which  is  below  the  average,  they  are  higher  than 
the  salaries  of  any  other  German  university,  except- 
ing, perhaps,  one  or  two  at  Berlin.  The  widows' 
fund,  however,  is  peculiar  to  Gottingen,  and  recom- 
mends its  chairs  to  the  learned  even  more  tlian  its 
library  and  fees,  for  in  no  country  does  the  scanty  re- 
compense of  a  learned  man  threaten  more  helpless 
destitution  to  a  family  which  he  may  leave  behind 
him,  than  in  Germany.  It  is  as  old  as  the  university 
itself,  and  originated  with  Munchausen.  Thp  capital 
was  originally  only  a  thousand  rix-dollars  ;  at  the  end 
of  the  last  century  it  amounted  to  fifty-one  thousand, 
chiefly  made  up  of  benefactions  from  the  government 
and  private  individuals,  but  partly,  likewise,  from  the 
savings  of  the  accumulating  interest.  The  interest  of 
the  capital,  with  the  yearly  payments  made  by  the 
professors,  forms  the  fund  from  which  the  families  of 
deceased  professors  are  pensioned.  The  rate  of  al- 
lowance fixed  at  the  beginning  of  the  present  century 
was  a  hundred  and  fifty-six  rix-dollars  (L.  24)  yearly 
to  the  widow,  or,  if  she  had  predeceased,  to  the  chil- 
dren. For  every  five  thousand  rix-dollars  added  to 
the  capital,  whether  by  bequests,  or  by  an  excess  of 
ordinary  revenue,  ten  are  added  to  the  pension  of 
every  widow.     On  the  death  of  the  widow,  the  pen- 


HOSPITALS.  211 

sion  is  continued  till  the  youngest  child  reaches  the 
age  of  twenty.  The  burdens  have  hitherto  been  so 
few,  that  the  revenue  of  the  fund  has  not  only  been 
able  to  discharge  them,  but  a  part  of  it,  sometimes 
two-thirds,  has  always  been  added  to  the  capital, 
Avhich  is  thus  rapidly  increasing. 

Medical  science  is  the  department  in  which  the 
fame  of  Gottingen  is  least  certain,  not  from  any  want 
of  talent  on  the  part  of  the  teachers,  but  solely  from 
the  want  of  extensive  hospitals,  these  indispensable 
requisiica  to  medical  education,  which  only  large  towns 
can  furnish.  Gottingen,  small  as  it  is,  contains  three  ; 
but  they  are  necessarily  on  a  diminutive  scale.  One 
of  them  is  set  apart  for  surgical  operations  ;  another 
for  clinical  lectures;  the  third  belongs  to  a  class  which, 
in  a  German  university  town,  can  always  reckon  on 
being  more  regularly  supplied  than  any  other;  it  is  a 
lying-in  hospital.  There  are  twelve  hundred  students 
in  Gottingen,  and,  on  an  average,  twenty  mothers  in 
the  hospital.  On  one  side,  a  Magdalene  greets  the 
eyes  of  the  suffering  sinner,  as  if  to  remind  her  of  what 
she  is;  and,  on  the  other,  a  bad  copy  of  the  Madonna 
della  Sediola,  as  if  to  comfort  her  with  the  idea  of 
what  she  may  become.  It  would  be  awkward  to  in- 
quire how  far  the  students  themselves  contribute  to 
the  welfare  of  this  establishment,  by  providing  it  with 
patients, — though  there  is  no  doubt  that  they  are  its 
best  friends,  and  the  greatest  enemies  of  the  public 
morals.  It  has  often  happened,  that  the  father  has 
been  the  first,  as  an  obstetric  tyro,  to  hear  the  cry  of  his 
child  ;  and  it  would  happen  more  frequently,  were  it 
not  that,  when  he  does  not  long  for  the  honours  of  ir- 
regular paternity,  the  mother,  who  has  sold  herself,  is 
easily  bribed  to  buy  another  father.  Where  so  many 
young  men  are  assembled,  hee  from  all  controul,  ex- 
cept a  very  imperfect  academical  controul,  and  sur- 
rounded by  such  creatures  as  minister  in  domestic  ser- 
vices in  a  university  town,  the  consequences    to   mo- 


51fi  GOTTINGEN. 

rality  will  always  be  the  same ;  and  assuredly  the 
principles  of  German  Burschen  are  the  very  last  that 
would  struggle  against  the  corruption.  It  would  be 
nothing  out  of  the  way  of  their  style  of  thinking  to 
hear  them  maintain,  that  it  is  a  greater  enormity  to 
let  the  lying-in  hospital  go  to  ruin  for  want  of  patients, 
than  to  debauch  innocence  ;  they  would  defend  the  ir- 
regular manufacture  of  living  bodies  on  precisely  the 
same  principles  on  which  their  medical  brethren, 
among  ourselves,  defend  the  theft  of  dead  ones.  Still 
it  is  true,  that,  among  the  females  whom  the  German 
Burschen  come  across  in  their  academic  towns,  there 
is  little  innocence  to  debauch.  The  laundi esses,  in 
particular,  a  set  of  persons  who  claimed  the  severe 
eye  of  the  praetor  much  more  than  any  nautae  or  cau- 
pones,  use  the  charms  of  their  subaltern  Naiads  as  a 
regular  trap  to  catch  customers ;  she  who  has  the 
prettiest  is  sure  to  require  the  most  extensive  bleach- 
ing green.  At  first,  tfie  effects  of  all- this  were  melan- 
choly at  Gotlingen;  for  these  creatures  often  contrived 
to  seduce  silly  Burschen,  who  were  worth  angling  lor, 
into  marriage;  but  the  government  took  such  severe 
measures  against  them,  above  all,  by  declaring  such 
marriages  null,  that  they  no  longer  attempt  it,  and 
gather  their  gains  in  a  less  ambitious  course.  Gottin- 
gen  is  no  worse  than  its  sister  universities^  and  matters 
have  greatly  mended  during  the  last  twenty  years  ;  at 
least  they  say  so  themselves.  The  same  mother,  how- 
ever, has  been  known  to  appear  four  different  times  in 
the  hospital,  in  four  successive  years,  in  honour  of  four 
different  Burschen ;  and  even  noble  equipages  have 
occasionally  deposited  masked  fair  ones,  for  a  time,  in 
this  house  of  doubtful  reputation. 

The  number  of  students  has  been  regularly  on  the 
increase  since  the  termination  of  the  war,  partly  from 
the  increased  extent  of  the  kingdom,  partly  from  the 
abolition  of  the  neip^hbouring  university  of  Helmstadt, 
(Brunswick   and   Mecklenburgh   having   very   wisely 


LAW.  213 

agreed  to  recognize  Gottingen  as  the  university  of 
these  duchies,)  and  partly  from  the  proscri|jliun  of 
Jena  which  followed  the  murder  of  Kotzebue.  But 
the  principal  reason  of  the  increase  is  the  rising  ciia- 
racter  of  the  univeisity  itself,  which  both  attracts 
foreigners,  and  prevents  llaiiovenans  from  going  to 
study  elsewhere.  More  than  one-half  of  the  whole 
number  are  foreigners,  that  is,  not  natives  of  the  king- 
dom of  Hanover.  The  number  of  foieigners  from 
states  not  German  is  naturally  small,  in  comparison 
with  those  who  belong  to  other  German  slates.  In 
1821,  out  of  nearly  seven  hundred,  who  were  not  ija- 
tives  of  the  kingdom,  not  a  Imndred  were  from  coun- 
tries foreign  to  Germany.  Swiss  and  Gieeks  were 
the  most  numerous,  then  Russians  and  Englishmen. 
While  there  were  u()wards  of  a  hundred  yt>uiig  men 
from  Prussia,  notwithstanding  the  well-earned  reputa- 
tion of  Berlin,  there  was  only  one  solitary  subject  of 
Austria.  The  Austrian  Eagle  is  most  jealous  of  her 
young  gazing  on  other  suns  than  her  own.  Five  Hun- 
garians, who  had  come  to  Gottingen  to  learn  seme- 
thing,  were  actually  ordered  away  by  an  express  com- 
mand from  Vienna,  and  found  it  necesisary  to  obey. 

The  proportion  of  lawyers  among  the  students  is 
extravantly  large  ;  more  than  one-half  of  the  whole 
number  were  matriculated  in  the  juridical  faculty. 
The  reason  of  this  is,  that,  from  the  mode  of  internal 
arrangement  common  to  all  the  German  states,  there 
is  an  immense  number  of  small  public  offices  connec- 
ted with  the  administration  of  justice,  to  which,  trilling 
as  the  competence  they  afford  may  be,  numbers  of 
young  men  look  forward  as  their  destination,  and  which 
require  a  legal  education,  or,  at  least,  what  [}asses  for 
a  legal  education.  Under  the  system  of  })airimonial 
jurisdiction,  which,  though  clipped  here  and  there,  still 
remains  in  its  essence  as  well  as  in  its  form,  every 
other  landed  proprietor  must  have  a  judge,  or,  if  his 
estates  be  disjoined,  two  or  three  judges,  to  administer 


2U  GOTTINGEN. 

justice,  in  the  first  instance,  to  all  who  dwell  within 
the  limits  of  his  property.  The  crown,  too,  requires 
a  host  of  little  praetors  of  the  same  kind  on  its  do- 
mains. It  is  true,  that  such  a  person  is  badly  paid  ; 
but  then,  to  say  nothing  of  his  own  chicane,  there  are 
legal  imposts  on  the  litigants,  which  give  him  a  direct 
interest  In  fomenting  and  protracting  suits;  and,  under 
so  imperfect  a  system  of  controul  as  every  where  pre- 
vails, he  must  be  a  marvellously  stupid  or  a  marvel- 
lously honest  Dorfrichter^  (village-judge,)  who  cannot 
rise  his  gains  to  a  very  ample  recompense  for  his 
talents.  The  same  person  is  occacionally  judge  in  two 
different  small  districts.  It  sometimes  happens  that 
it  is  necessary  for  the  judge  of  the  one  to  notify  some- 
thing that  has  happened,  the  escape  of  a  thief,  for  in- 
stance, to  the  judge  of  the  other;  and  instances  have 
actually  occurred  of  the  same  person  in  the  one  ca- 
pacity, writing  a  letter  to  himself  in  the  other,  and 
then  answering  his  own  letter,  that  he  might  lose  none 
of  the  fees  attached  to  the  oerformance  of  these  du- 
ties.  The  consequence  is,  that  in  Gottmgen  one-half 
of  the  students  are  gaining  a  sprinkling  of  law,  and  out 
of  it,  justice  and  the  country  are  suffering  under  a 
locust  tribe  of  Dogberrys. 

Gottingen  has  the  reputation  of  being  a  dear  place, 
and  the  more  prudent  of  its  preceptors  do  not  wish 
to  propagate  any  contrary  belief;  for,  like  all  its  sis- 
ters, it  has  felt  the  burden  of  enticing  a  host  of  poor 
scholars  into  learned  courses.  It  has  two  hundred  and 
sixteen  freytischstellen^  that  is,  it  has  funds  which  are 
laid  out  in  feeding  so  many  poor  students.  The  stu- 
dent selects  a  traiteur  who  supplies  him  with  his  food 
at  a  fixed  rate,  and  is  paid  by  the  university.  The 
alms  is  not  always  well  bestowed  ;  niggardly  interest 
sometimes  gains  it  in  preference  to  necessity.  An  in- 
stance was  mentioned  to  me  of  a  wealthy  Mecklen- 
burgher  being  so  mean  as  to  ask  this  pittance  for  his 
son,   and  so  unfortunate   as  to  obtain  it.     The  young 


EXPENDITURE.  215 

man  himself  would  not  submit  to  the  unnecessary  de- 
gradation, transferred  his  privilege  of  eating  gratis  to 
a  poor  comrade,  dined  himself  at  the  table  d'hote  of 
the  most  fashionable  inn,  and  ran  in  debt. 

The  lowest  sum  I  ever  heard  mentioned  as  sufficient 
to  bring  a  young  man  respectably  through  at  Gottin- 
gen  is  three  hundred  rix-dollars  yearly,  not  quite 
L.  50,  but  assuredly  this  is  too  low.  Mlchaelis,  even 
in  the  last  century,  said  four  hundred;  Meincrs,  in  the 
beginning  of  the  present,  set  it  down  at  three  hundred; 
Professor  Saalfeld,  who  has  brought  down  Flutter's 
work  to  1820,  fixes  on  three  hundred  and  iifty.  The 
number  of  those  who  spend  only  the  lowest  of  these 
sums  is  mucli  smaller  than  the  number  of  those  who 
spend  the  highest.  Taking  the  average  at  three  hun- 
dred and  fifty,  which  certainly  does  not  exceed  the 
truth,  the  university,  with  upwards  of  twelve  hundred 
students,  and  thirty-six  regular  teachers,  besides  the 
extraordinary  professors  and  the  doctores  privatim  do- 
centcs^  annually  circulates  in  Gottlngcn,  at  least,  seven- 
ty thousand  pounds.  Considerably  more  than  one-half 
of  those  who  spend  this  money  are  foreigners  to  Han- 
over; and,  as  they  are  generally  the  more  wealthy, 
they  spend  a  considerably  greater  share  of  the  whole 
sum  than  the  part  merely  proportional  to  their  num- 
bers. Thus,  the  university  brin^is  annually  into  the 
town  about  L.  40,000  from  foreign  countries.  The 
mere  rent  of  rooms  let  to  the  students  aniounted,  for 
the  winter  session  1820-1821,  to  21,800  rix-dollars, 
rather  more  than  L.  3300.  The  professors  exercise  a 
very  strict  controul  over  all  the  inhabitants  who  follow 
this  occupation.  Opposite  to  each  student's  name  in 
the  university  catalogue  stands  not  only  the  street,  but 
the  very  house  which  he  inhabits,  and  if  he  remove, 
it  must  be  immediately  notified  to  his  academical  supe- 
riors. In  the  whole  town  there  were  a  thousand  and 
ninety-six  rooms  to  let,  of  which  six  remained  empty, 
though  tHfe  number  of  students   was  twelve   hundred 


216  GOTTINGEN. 

and  fifty-five  ;  for,  as  it  is  not  to  be  expected  that  a 
man,  who  is  unable  to  pay  for  his  dinner,  can  con- 
veniently be  at  the  expense  of  a  whole  bed-chamber, 
it  frequently  happens  that. two  occupy  the  same  room 
together. 

The  university  has  been  fortunate  in  suflfering  noth- 
insf  from  the  pohtical  animosities  which,  of  late  years, 
have  harassed  so  many  public  teachers  in  Germany, 
and  set  most  of  the  universities  in  so  turbulent  a  hght. 
It  would  be  too  much  to  say  that  her  students  escap- 
ed the  infection  which  made  the  silly,  hot-headed 
B  irschen  set  themselves  up  for  political  regenerators. 
Tiey  bore  their  part  in  the  Wart  burg  festival ;  they 
discarded  hair-cutters,  and  well-made  coats :  but  the 
spirit  evaporated  more  speedily  than  elsewhere,  and 
was  more  (irmly  met  by  the  vigour  of  the  senate,  and 
the  prudence  of  the  government.  The  latter,  though 
it  has  very  properly  opposed  itself,  from  the  very  be- 
giiming,  to  the  irregularities  of  the  students,  is  in  fa- 
vour both  with  them  and  their  teachers.  While  some 
other  states  look  upon  their  universities  with  jealousy 
and  dislike,  Hanover  has  always  treated  what  the 
Duke  of  Cambridge  called,  "  the  fairest  pearl  in  her 
crown,"  with  confidence  and  liberality.  It  has  never 
pretended  to  find  proofs  of  an  organized  revohjtion  in 
the  doctrines  of  the  teachers,  or  the  occasional  turbu- 
lence of  the  scholars.  It  has  borne  with  the  one,  and 
battled  against  the  other,  but  has  never  used  them  as 
tokens  of  political  crime  to  justify  political  harshness. 
The  regulations  against  the  press  produced  by  the 
C  )ngress  of  Carlsbad,  and  enacted  into  a  law  of  the 
Confederation  by  the  Diet,  have  introduced  here,  as 
in  all  tfie  seminaries,  a  censorship  from  which  the  uni- 
versities had  hitherto  been  exempted.  But  in  Gottin^ 
gen  the  power  thus  given  has  not  been  used  ;  no  cen- 
sorship, I  was  assured,  had  been  established.  Those 
professors  whose  departments  necessarily  draw  them 
into  political   discussion,  have   acted  much  more  sensi- 


DISCIPLINE.  217 

blj  than  their  brethren  of  Jena.  They  have  not  de- 
generated into  mere  newspaper  writers,  nor  suHicd  their 
academical  character,  by  mixing  themselves  up  in  the 
angry  pohtics  of  the  day  with  the  fury  of  partizans. 
Sartorius,  the  Professor  of  Statistics  and  Pohtical  Eco- 
nomy, sits  in  the  States  for  the  town  of  Eimbeck. 

Gottingen  enjoys  the   reputation,  that  a  more  sober 
and  becoming  spirit  reigns  among  its  students  tlian  is  to 
be  found  in  any  of  its  rivals,  and  that,  even  in  their  ex- 
cesses, they  show  a  more   gentlemanly  spirit  :  to   this 
merit  every  Gottinger  at  least  lays  claim.     In  the   ex- 
ternal peculiarities  of  the  sect,  they  seem  to  be   much 
on  a  level  with  their  brethren.     I  heard  as  late  and  as 
loud  singing,  or  rather  vociferation,  resounding  on   the 
streets  and  from  the  windows  of  Gottingen,  as  in  Halle, 
Heidelberg,   or  Jena.     They  are  as  much  attached  to 
the   fencing  school  and  the  duel,  to  the  vivat   and   the 
pereat ;  but  they  are  not  so   fertile  in  contriving  ridi- 
culous expedients  to  make  themselves  be  noticed.  The 
Senate  has  a  body  of  armed  police  under  its  own  com- 
mand, to  keep  them  in  order  ;  but  the   students    have 
oftener  than  once  driven  these  academic  warriors  from 
the  field.     Landsmannschaften,  too,  are  said  to  be  root- 
ed out,  and  Blumenbach  was  blessing  his  stars  that  it 
had   come  to  be   his   turn  to  be  Prorector  when  these 
things  are  no  more  ;  but  duels  keep  their  place  ;    and, 
considering  that  these  fraternities  are  as   much  prohi- 
bited every  where  as  in  Gottingen,  and  yet  do  continue 
to  exist  elsewhere,  it  may  fairly  be  presumed  that  they 
lurk  and  act  in  Hanover  under  the  same  secrecy  which 
protects  them  in  Prussia  and  Saxony.     Discipline,  like- 
wise, at  least   for  many  years,  has  been   rigorously  en- 
forced.    In   return   for  the   confidence   ^nd   liberality 
with    which   the   government  has  always   treated   the 
professors,  it  has  justly  insisted  on  the  firm  and  uncom- 
promising discharge   of  their  duty.      That  spirit   of 
truckling  to  the  young  men,  so  disgusting  in  some  oth- 
er universities,  has  disappeared. 
28 


218  GOTTINGEN. 

Any  preference  which  Gottingen  may  reasonably 
claim  in  point  of  general  manners  arises  principally 
from  the  circumstance,  that  a  greater  proportion  of  its 
stuilents  are  young  men  of  rank,  and  of  respectable  or 
affluent  fortune,  than  elsewhere.  I  do  not  mean,  that 
rank  and  wealth  give  these  persons  purer  morals,  or  a 
more  accommodating  spirit  of  subordination,  than  be- 
long to  their  less  fortunate  lellows ;  but  the  dissipa- 
tions of  the  former  are  not  so  gross  and  raw  in  their 
external  expressions  as  similar  excesses  in  the  lower 
ranks  of  life,  and  it  is  only  of  their  external  conduct 
that  there  is  here  any  question.  A  licentious  peer  and 
a  licentious  porter  are  generally  very  different  charac- 
ters. Where  the  poorer  class  of  students  forms  the 
majority,  the  manners  are  always  more  rude,  and  the 
whole  tone  of  society  is  more  vulgar,  than  where  their 
numbers  are  comparatively  small.  To  this,  I  think,  it 
is  chiefly  owing  that  Gottingen,  without  perhaps  any 
well-founded  claim  to  better  conduct,  or  greater  aca- 
demical industry,  than  some  other  universities,  certain- 
ly does  impress  the  stranger  with  the  idea  of  some- 
thing more  orderly  and  gentlemanly.  The  very  ap- 
pearance of  the  town  aids  this  impression,  for  Gottin- 
gen is  one  of  the  most  agreeable  and  cleanly-looking 
towns  in  Germany.  The  regularity  and  w^idth  of  the 
streets,  which  possess  like>vise  the  rare  merit  of  being 
furnished,  for  the  most  part,  with  pavements,  and  the 
neat,  light,  airy  appearance  of  the  houses,  though  they 
make  no  pretensions  to  elegance,  is  something  very  dif- 
ferent from  Halle  or  Jena. 


1^ 

33 


219 


CHAPTER  Vm. 

HANOVER. 

Ein  warnies  immer  reges  Herz, 

Bei  hellem  Licht  im  Kopfe  ; 
Gesunde  Gliecler  ohne  Schmerz, 

Und  Heinrich's  Huhn  im  Topfe. 

Tlie  Bitrschen. 


The  greater  part  of  the  fifty  miles  between  Gottin- 
gen  and  Hanover  still  presents  a  pleasant,  varied,  and 
well  cultivated  country,  consisting  of  moderate  sized 
plains,  bouiided  by  wooded  ridges  of  moderate  eleva- 
tion. Here,  too,  as  in  Hesse,  a  great  quantity  of  land 
is  in  wood,  which  might  easily  be  converted  to  agri- 
cultural purposes,  were  it  not  that  ihe  forest  laws  pre- 
vent the  proprietor  from  either  clearing  it  away,  or 
deriving  any  advantage  from  the  timber.  The  pea- 
santry have  the  right  of  pasturage  in  the  forest ;  if 
cleared  away,  it  would  only  become  an  open  common 
pasture.  The  scarcity  of  fuel  all  over  the  kingdom 
argues  a  deficiency  of  wood;  and  it  would  be  a  more 
advisable  speculation,  regularly  to  cut  and  renew  the 
forest,  did  not  the  Hutungs-Recht,  the  right  of  pastur- 
age, present  a  thousand  obstacles.  The  proprietor 
cannot  increase  the  number  of  his  trees,  for  he  dare 
not  encroach  on  the  extent  of  the  pasturage.  That  it 
may  not  be  inconvenient  for  the  cattle,  he  must  plant, 
if  he  plant  at  all,  at  distances  which  are  ruinous  to 
young  wood,  by  leaving  it  without  shelter.  Then,  both 
the  cattle  and  the  persons  who  tend  them  are  sworn 
enemies  of  young  trees  ;  the  quadrupeds,  because  they 
find  them  to  be  good  eating,  and  the  bipeds,  because 
they  imagine,  that  to  destroy  them  is  to  advance  the 
public  weal  of  the  village,  by  augmenting  the  pastur- 
able surface.     To  protect  them  from  the  wind,  they 


22e.  HANOVER. 

are  fastened  to  stakes  ;  to  defend  them  against  cows 
and  cowherds,  they  are  surrounded  with  thorns  ;  im- 
mediately the  herdsmen  carry  off  the  thorns  and  stakes 
as  excellent  fuel,  and  the  cattle  attack  the  trees  as  be- 
ing excellent  food.  The  proprietor  very  naturally 
gives  up  a  business  which  he  cannot  ply  w'ith  profit, 
neglects  his  forest,  and  the  scarcity  and  cost  of  fuel  is 
rapidly  increasing.  In  the  Estates  a  proposal  was 
made,  though  unsuccessfully,  to  exempt  forest-land  from 
the  land-tax,  on  the  ground,  that  it  is  a  species  of  pro- 
perty which,  under  the  existing  laws,  cannot  possibly 
be  productive  to  the  ow^ner. 

This  has  likewise  a  demoralizing  influence,  and  pro- 
duces a  class  of  criminals  which  we  scarcely  know, 
wood-poachers.  In  many  districts  the  price  of  fuel  is 
so  high,  that  the  poor  cannot  afiford  to  purchase  it ;  but 
they  can  just  as  little  endure  to  be  frozen,  or  to  eat 
their  meat  undressed  ;  they  plunder  the  forests,  and 
justice  is  compelled  to  connive,  in  some  measure,  at 
this  crime  of  necessity.  Holz-dieb,  or  wood-thief,  is  a 
term  as  expressive  of  daring,  recklessness,  and  revenge, 
as  poachers  is  with  us.  The  Jagers,  and  other  ser- 
vants appointed  to  w^atch  the  forests,  are  regarded  by 
them  in  the  same  light  in  which  game-keepers  are  by 
poachers,  and,  if  they  value  their  personal  safety,  they 
must  discharge  their  duty  with  great  lenity  or  careless- 
ness. When  some  notable  piece  of  plundering  makes 
it  necessary  to  bestir  themselves,  the  Jagers  of  a  num- 
ber of  neighbouring  forests  occasionally  assemble  as  if 
for  a  chace  ;  the  dogs  are  uncoupled,  and  the  horns 
sound,  but  wood-thieves  are  the  game,  and  often  sufTer 
a  severe  chastisement.  They,  again,  take  vengeance 
in  their  own  way  and  time  ;  there  have  been  examples 
of  an  obnoxious  inspector,  or  keeper  of  a  wood,  falling 
a  sacrifice  to  the  murderous  enmity  of  such  men,  years 
after  he  had  brought,  or  attempted  to  bring  them  to 
punishment.  They  are  exactly  our  own  poachers,  on- 
ly they   are   produced,  not   by  idleness  or   a   love  of 


THE  POPULATION.  221 

amusement,  but  by  the  impossibility  of  dispensing  with 
one  of  the  first  necessaries  of  life. 

These   pleasant    valleys  are    more    thickly    peopled 
than  the  northern  provinces  of  the  kingdom,  which  con- 
tain so  many  large  tracts  of  uncultivated  heath  and  un- 
inhabited sand.     The  population  of  Calenberg,  Gottin- 
gen,  and  Grubenhagen,  commonly  included    under   the 
name    of   the  southern  provinces,   exceeds  that  of  the 
northern  by  nearly  one  half,  in  proportion  to  their  re- 
spective superficial  extent.*     Villages  and  small  towns 
are    plentifully  scattered  ;  the  former   are    apparently 
more  substantial  and   convenient,  and  the  latter   more 
bustling   and    cheerful  than  in  Hesse.     There   are    al- 
ways, indeed,  many  traces  of  poverty,  and  much  of  what 
we    would   reckon  slovenliness,  and  want  of  skill ;  but 
the    peasantry  look  active    and  comfortable.     It  is   no 
peculiar    praise  to    Hanover,  that  its  peasantry  are  no 
longer  adscriptitii  ghbae^  bound  to  live  and  labour,  and 
die   where    they  were    born,  however  hard  the   condi- 
tions might  be  on  which  their  family  had  originally  ac- 
quired the  hereditary  lease,  as  it  may  be  called,  of  the 
lands ;  for  in  what   German  state    has    not    this   been   i^ 
rooted  out  ?  The  conditions  under  which  the  son  is  to 
succeed  to  his  father's  farm  may  be  personally  oppres- 
sive, as  well  as  impolitic    in  regard  to  agriculture  ;  but 
he  is  no  longer  bound,  as  he  formerly  was,  to  submit  to 
them.     If  he  dislikes  them,  or  wishes  to  seek  a   more 
indulgent  landlord,  he  is  at  liberty  to  pack  up  his  little 
all,  and   settle  himself  where    he  chooses.     It    is  true 
that  a  German   peasant  will  not   readily  quit  the   soil 

*  Before  the  addition  of  East  Friesland,  which  was  ceded  to  Ha- 
nover at  the  general  peace,  the  northern  provinces  were  reckon- 
ed at  464  geographical  square  miles,  with  a  population  of  680,000; 
the  three  southern  provinces  at  162  miles,  with  a  population  of 
343,000,  exclusive  of  the  40,000  poor  but  industrious  inhabitants 
who  people  the  valleys,  work  the  mines,  and  carry  on  the  iron 
manufactories  of  the  Harz.  Since  the  cessions  made  to  Hanover 
at  the  peace,  the  population  of  the  whole  kingdom  is  given  in  round 
numbers  at  1,320,000, 


222  HANOVER. 

which  his  fathers  have  laboured  for  ages  ;  he  will  sub- 
mit to  a  great  deal  before  taking  this  desperate  step, 
Avhich  is  to  him,  though  he  only  remove  perhaps  into 
the  next  parish,  as  painful  a  separation  as  if  he  were 
an  emigrant  leaving  his  country  for  a  distant  corner  of 
the  globe.  But  the  knowledge  that  such  a  thing  can 
be  done,  and  is  done,  has  necessarily  brought  the  pro- 
prietors to  feel  the  necessity  of  avoiding  those  exac- 
tions, and  mitigating  the  hard  feudal  terms  of  former 
days,  which  would  be  most  likely  to  make  it  happen. 

Hanover  depends  so  much  on  agriculture,  that  the 
towns,  numerous  as  they  are,  do  not  contam  above  a 
tenth  part  of  the  whole  population  ;  yet,  in  the  Es- 
tates convoked  in  1814,  they  returned  nearly  one-third 
of  the  members.  There  is  nothing  popular  in  the 
mode  of  election ;  the  member  is  chosen  by  the  magis- 
trates, and  the  magistrates  are  either  self-elected,  or 
name  J  by  the  Crown.  The  most  popular  form  I  heard 
of  is  that  of  Osnabruck,  whose  new  charter  gives  the 
citizens  some  share  in  filling  up  vacancies  in  the  magis- 
tracy, but  in  such  a  round  about  way,  that  it  may  fair- 
ly be  quoted  as  the  beau  ideal  of  indirect  election.  The 
magistracy  chooses  sixteen  citizens,  "  good  and  true 
men  ;"  these  sixteen  choose  four ;  two  of  these  four, 
in  conjunction  with  one  member  of  the  surviving  ma- 
gistracy, choose  twelve;  these  twelve  choose  three; 
out  of  these  three  the  magistrates  choose  one ;  this 
one  must  be  confirmed  by  the  government,  and  then 
takes  his  seat  among  the  civic  authorities,  the  picked 
man  of  the  three  who  represent  the  twelve,  who  re- 
present the  three,  who  represent  the  four,  who  repre- 
sent the  sixteen,  who  represent  the  magistracy,  who 
represent  themselves.  Aye,  this  is  the  House  that 
Jack  built ;  yet  it  is  no  crazy,  ruined,  old  fashioned  edi- 
fice, but  a  spick  and  span  new  house  built  in  the  year 
1814.^ 

*  Verordnung,  die  Organisation  des  Magistrats  der  Stadt  Osna- 
briick  betreffend  ;  31st  October  1814. 


THE   CITY.  225 

The  nearer  the  capital,  the  less  beauty.  On  ap- 
proachino;  its  walls,  you  emerge  I'rom  hill  ami  dale  into 
that  wide,  dreary,  sandy  plain,  which  spreads  itself  out 
from  the  foot  of  the  Harz,  nearly  to  the  shores  of  the 
East  sea.  Hanover  makes  no  show  in  the  distance  ;  it 
even  looks  more  dull  and  gloomy  than  it  really  turns 
out  to  be.  The  population  does  not  exceed  twenty 
thousand  ;  but  the  appointment  of  a  royal  governor 
has  brought  back  some  portion  of  princely  gaiely,  and 
the  asseoibling  of  thu  General  States,  drawing  togeth- 
er many  of  the  nobility  from  the  dilferent  provinces, 
gives  its  streets  and  shopkeepers,  for  a  season,  addi- 
tional activity.  It  is  an  irregular  town,  neither  old  nor 
new  fashioned  ;  every  thing  is  marked  with  mediocri- 
ty. The  formerly  Electoral  palace  is  a  huge,  plain, 
uninhabited  building,  and  that  of  the  Duke  of  Caai- 
bridge  is  merely  the  best  house  in  the  best  street.  The 
manners  did  not  seem  to  me  to  be  at  all  so  much  An- 
glicised as  they  are  sometimes  represented.  Except 
the  English  uniform  of  the  Guards,  the  Erjglish  arms 
on  the  public  offices,  and,  In  some  circles,  a  later  dinner 
hour  than  is  usual  in  Germany,  nothing  reminds  one 
that  he  is  in  a  capital  which  has  so  long  been  subject 
to  the  King  of  England.  It  is  only  within  these  few 
years  that  Hanover  has  come  into  contact  with  Eng- 
land in  such  a  way,  as  either  to  teach,  or  be  taught  any 
thing ;  the  higher  orders  alone  are  exposed  to  this  influ- 
ence, and  any  fragments  of  foreign  customs  which  they 
may  adopt  will  not  easily  spread  among  the  great  body 
of  the  people,  or  produce  any  visible  change  on  the 
national  manners.  The  manners  of  France  penetrated 
much  more  deeply  into  the  capitals  which  she  occupied, 
because  Frenchmen  were  thrust  into  all  the  com- 
manding stations  of  society :  but  England  has  hitherto 
acted  towards  Hanover  with  justice  and  propriety. 
The  Hanoverians  cannot  complain  that  the  administra- 
tion of  their  government  has  been  diverted  to  the  pro- 
fit of  foreigners.     Though   there  are  English   officers 


224  HANOVER. 

about  the  governor,  all  the  public  offices  are  filled  by 

natives. 

Our  language  and  literature  are  naturally  much  culti- 
vated among  them,  but  scarcely  more  so  than  at  Dresden 
or  Weimar.  The  theatre,  though  a  court  theatre,  is 
the  only  one  in  Germany  where  I  ever  found  recognized 
our  constitutional  privilege  of  making  a  noise.  The  gods 
of  Covent  Garden  or  Drury  Lane  could  not  maintain 
the  rights  of  theatres  with  greater  turbulence,  than 
their  brother  deities  of  Hanover ;  but,  as  they  assert 
that  they  have  enjoyed  the  franchise  ever  since  they 
had  a  theatre,  we  cannot  claim  the  merit  of  having 
taught  them  this  imposing  expression  of  public  senti- 
ment. An  opera  was  performed,  Greytry's  Coeur  do 
Lion ;  the  singing  was  mediocre,  and  the  acting  de- 
testable; all  the  men  were  awkward,  and  all  the  wo- 
men ugly.  Great  part  of  the  pit  was  filled  with  mili- 
tary officers.  All  over  Germany,  it  is  reckoned  essen- 
tial to  the  respectability  of  the  military  character,  that 
these  gentlemen  should  be  able  to  frequent  the  thea- 
tre ;  but,  low  as  the  prices  are,  (the  pit  at  Hanover  is 
only  a  shilling,)  their  pay  is  insufficient  to  afford  this 
nightly  amusement.  The  government,  therefore,  keeps 
back  a  small  portion  of  their  pay,  gives  them  gratis  ad- 
mission to  the  theatre,  and,  in  some  way  or  other, 
makes  up  the  difference  to  the  manager.  Is  it  more 
respectable  to  go  to  the  theatre  on  charity,  than  to  stay 
at  home  ?  If  it  is  supposed  that  the  dignity  of  the  mi- 
litary character  depends,  in  public  estimation,  on  the 
apparent  ability  of  the  military  to  spend  money,  is  it 
elevated  by  an  arrangement  which  tells  every  body, 
that  they  are  less  able  to  spend  money  than  their  fel- 
low-citizens ?  Even  a  strolling  party,  if  there  be  mili- 
tary in  the  place  of  its  temporary  abode,  generally  sets 
apart  a  portion  of  its  barn  for  the  Herren  Offlciere, 
either  gratuitously,  or  at  half  price.  It  looks  like  a 
privilege. 

Hanover  had  put  on  all  the  gaiety  it  can  assume,  for 


AMUSEMENTS.  ^225 

it  was  Easter  Sunday,  and  Easter  Sunday  is  a  fair. 
The  lower  orders,  in  holiday  finery,  were  swarming 
through  the  walks  that  run  along  the  ramparts,  de- 
cently dressed,  decently  behaved,  and  healthy  looking 
people.  A  large  plain,  outside  of  the  walls,  covered 
"with  booths,  E  O  tables,  and  other  sources  of  Sunday 
amusement,  was  the  gathering  place.  On  one  side,  a 
great  many  parties  of  young  men  were  playing  cricket 
in  their  own  way.  They  had  only  one  wicket  ;  the 
ball  was  not  bowled  along  the  ground,  but  thrown  up 
in  the  air,  and  struck,  as  it  descended,  with  a  short 
staff,  often  with  admirable  precision  and  dexterity.  In 
another  part,  the  press  was  thronging  round  the  can- 
vas booths,  where  cakes  and  toys,  gin  and  tobacco, 
were  retailed.  Though  every  body  was  very  merry, 
and  many  very  noisy,  there  was  neither  quarrelling  nor 
intoxication.  Many  more  segars  than  drams  were  con- 
sumed. Next  afternoon,  the  whole  city  repaired  to 
Herrenhausen^  a  royal  residence  in  the  suburbs,  where 
the  royal  water-works  were  to  spout  their  annual  tri- 
bute to  the  Easter  festivities.  The  long  and  ample 
alley,  which  runs  from  the  city  to  the  gardens  of  Her- 
renhausen,  is  magnificent ;  the  gardens  themselves  are 
straight  walks,  lined  with  trees,  and  carpeted  with  turf, 
but  the  statues  intended  to  adorn  them  are  execrable. 
The  expectant  thousands  were  lounging  patiently  round 
the  spacious  basin,  till  the  arrival  of  the  governor  and 
his  suite  should  authorize  the  fountain  to  play  from  its 
centre  ;  yet,  when  it  did  come,  they  did  not  seem  to 
think  it  a  very  fine  sight.  It  is  on  a  trifling  scale. 
The  wind  was  so  strong,  that  the  column  of  water,  in- 
stead of  throwing  itself  back  on  all  sides  in  an  ample 
and  graceful  curve — the  great  source  of  beauty  in  such 
a  fountain — was  carried  and  scattered  so  far  to  the  lee- 
ward, as  to  drench  the  unsuspecting  citizens  who  had 
ranged  themselves  on  that  side.  The  wetted  part  of 
the  crowd  fled  in  consternation;  the  dry  part  shouted  in 
malicious  triumph  at  their  o>vn  windward  prudence  ;  the 
29 


£26  HANOVER. 

fountain  played  on,  and  the  band  struck  up  "  God  save 
the  King." 

At  the  entrance  of  the  puhhc  walks  stands  the  mon- 
ument of  Leibnitz,  a  bust  of  the  philosopher,  on  an 
elevated  pedestal,  within  a  small  Ionic  temple.  Hu^e 
bundles  of  his  manuscripts,  as  well  as  the  armed  chair 
in  which  he  died,  reading  Barclay's  Argenis,  are  still 
preserved  in  the  library  where  he  studied,  or  rather 
lived.  The  greater  part  of  them  are  not  regularly 
written  out,  but  are  scraps  of  paper  of  all  sizes,  scrawl- 
ed over  with  incoherent  notes.  To  keep  this  chaos  in 
order,  Leibnitz  made  use  of  a  singular  common-place 
book.  It  is  an  array  of  shelves,  like  a  book-case,  di- 
vided by  vertical  partitions  into  a  great  number  of 
small  pigeon  holes.  Under  each  hole  is  a  label,  with 
the  name  of  the  subject  to  which  it  was  appropriated, 
frequently  with  the  name  of  an  emperor,  or  any  other 
person  whom  the  philosopher  found  useful  as  making 
an  epoch,  or  important  enough  to  have  a  division  for 
himself.  When,  in  the  course  of  his  reading,  he  came 
upon  any  thing  worth  noticing,  he  jotted  it  briefly 
down  on  any  scrap  of  paper  that  happened  to  be  at 
hand,  and  deposited  it  m  its  proper  pigeon  hole.  One 
of  the  librarians  assured  me,  with  great  complacency, 
that  Buonaparte's  expedition  to  Egypt  was  originally 
an  idea  of  Leibnitz ;  for,  among  his  manuscripts,  a  memo- 
rial addressed  to  Louis  XIV.  had  been  discovered,  in 
which  the  philosopher  represents  it  as  a  great  and 
good  work  to  deliver  from  Oriental  barbarism  the 
country  which  had  been  the  mother  of  all  arts  and 
sciences,  and  the  ease  with  which  its  liberation  might 
be  effected  by  the  Most  Christian  King. 

The  library  itself  is  small ;  the  government  justly 
thinks  that  it  does  enough  in  supporting  the  library  of 
Gottingen;  but  there  are  some  interesting  typograph- 
ical rarities.  A  copy  of  Tully's  Offices,  of  1465,  very 
beautifully  and  regularly  printed  on  vellum,  bears  tes- 
timony to  the  mystery  in  which  the  art  was  at  first  in- 


THE  LIBRARY.  227 

volved ;  for  the  printer,  alter  setting  down  his  name, 
"Fust,"  (Faust,)  and  the  year,  at  the  end  of  the  book, 
adds,  that  it  was  executed  iiec  penna^  nee  aerea  penna, 
sed  quadam  arte.  That  earlj  production  of  ihe  graph- 
ic art,  the  Biblium  Pauperum,  is  a  misnomer;  for  a  is 
no  Bible  at  all,  prrpcrlj  speaking,  and  could  be  of  no 
use  to  the  poor,  except  as  a  picture-book  to  amu^e 
their  children,  for  the  text  is  Latin.  It  is  a  series  of 
wooden  cuts,  representing  the  principal  events  of  the 
sacred  writings.  The  cuts  occu[)y  the  u[)|jer  half  of 
every  page  ;  below  is  the  ex[)lanalion,  in  rude  rhymed 
Latin  verses.  In  the  cut  which  represents  our  first 
parents  after  their  expulsion  from  Paradise,  Adam  is 
busily  delving,  and  Eve  sits  beside  him,  spinning,  with 
Httle  Cain  upon  her  knee  : 

When  Adam  delved,  and  Eve  span, 
Where  was  then  the  gentleman? 

The  superbly  illuminated  missal  is  said  to  have  been 
a  present  from  Charles  V.  to  our  Henry  VIII. ;  if  so,  it 
must  have  undergone  strange  vicissitudes.  A  notilica- 
tion  in  English,  signed  by  a  Mr.  Wade,  is  affixed  to  it, 
which  states,  that  he  first  saw  the  manuscript  in  the 
possession  of  a  private  gentleman  in  France,  about  the 
beginning  of  the  last  century.  The  proprietor  show- 
ed it  to  him,  but  would  not  allow  him  to  touch  it;  naj, 
he  himself  turned  over  the  leaves  only  with  a  pair  of 
silver  tongs,  and,  observing  Mr.  Wade  smile,  remark- 
ed, with  some  warmth,  that  it  was  thus  his  ancestors 
had  so  long  preserved  the  matchless  manuscript  in  its 
present  splendour.  On  the  death  of  this  gentleman, 
Mr.  Wade  purchased  it  from  his  executors ;  from  him 
it  came  mto  the  possession  of  our  royal  family,  who  de- 
posited it,  along  with  the  silver  tongs,  in  the  library 
of  Hanover. 

The  gardens  and  villa  of  the  late  Count  Walmoden 
are  now  royal  property;  but  the  collection  of  pictures 
has  been  dispersed.     Those  that  remain  give  no  good 


2^8  HANOVER. 

idea  of  the  artists  whose  names  they  hear.  The  Ma- 
donna and  Child,  said  to  be  by  Raphael,  the  Dying 
Monk,  ascribed  to  Tintoretto,  and  the  Pope  adoring 
the  Virg^in,  baptized  as  a  Guido,  have  nothing  in  them, 
to  be  sure,  inconsistent  with  the  earher  style  and  more 
careless  efforts  of  these  masters;  but  neither  do  they 
give  the  slightest  idea  of  what  these  masters  could  do, 
and  would  not  attract  notice  were  it  not  for  the  names. 
Clirist  parting  from  the  Disciples  at  Emmaus  is  a  de- 
sign of  Annibal  Caracci,  full  of  the  simplicity,  dignity, 
and  boldness,  in  which  that  painter  followed  so  close 
on  Fra  Bartolomeo.  Few  pictures  of  Rubens  exhibit 
the  provoking  inequalities  of  his  genius  so  strongly  as 
one  which  represents  the  Magdalene,  backed  by  a 
host  of  Saints.  She  is  kneeling,  in  tears,  before  the 
Virgin  and  Child.  The  colouring  is  in  many  points  in 
his  very  highest  style;  the  figures  are  in  his  very 
worst,  not  only  homely,  but  absolutely  vulgar  and  un- 
pleasant. The  Saints,  above  all  St.  Francis,  with  their 
hard-favoured  countenances,  totally  devoid  of  all  inter- 
esting and  poetical  expression,  look  like  so  many  jail- 
birds. The  Magdalene  is  just  one  of  those  gross 
masses  of  human  fl<  sh  which  he  has  so  often  painted; 
it  is  well  that  her  hands  are  folded  upon  her  breast, 
so  as  partly  to  cover  it;  for,  from  what  is  visible,  if 
displayed  in  full  volume,  it  would  have  been  frightful. 
The  Madonna,  too,  is  a  homely  housewife,  beautifully 
painted  ;  but  the  H<jly  Infant  itself,  in  form,  expression, 
and  colouring,  is  delicious, — all  grace,  animation,  and 
softness. 

The  Hanoverians  (if  a  passing  visitor  be  entitled  to 
form  an  opinion)  are  a  most  sober-minded,  plodding, 
easily  contented  people.  Like  all  their  brethren  of 
the  north  of  Germany,  without  possessing  less  kindness 
of  heart,  they  have  much  less  jovialty,  less  of  the  good 
Jellow^  than  the  Austrians,  and  are  not  so  genial  and 
extravagant,  even  in  their  amusements,  as  the  Bavari- 
an or  Wirtemburger.     Though  quite  as  industrious  as 


NATIONAL  CHARACTER.  229 

the  Saxons,  they  are  neither  so  lively,  nor  so  apt. 
Their  neighbours  of  Cassel  and  Brunswick  have  tne 
reputation  of  being  somewhat  choleric;  but  to  this 
charge  the  Hanoverian  is  in  no  degree  hable ;  there  is 
more  danger  of  his  becoming  a  drudge,  than  of  his 
growing  impatient.  Endowed  neither  with  great 
acuteness  of  perception  nor  quickness  of  I'eeling,  it  is 
long  before  he  can  be  brought  to  comprehend  the 
bearings  of  what  is  new  to  him,  and  it  is  diHicult  to 
rouse  him  to  ardour  in  its  pursuit.  If  it  become  advi- 
sable that  he  should  set  hunself  free  from  old  usages, 
which  are,  m  fact,  his  strongest  atFections,  great  slow- 
ness and  great  patience  are  necessary  to  untie  the 
cords  with  which  he  is  bound.  Though  every  other 
person  should  see  that  they  are  rotten,  arid  that  the 
man  has  only  to  shake  himself  to  get  rid  of  them,  he 
will  not  move  a  limb  before  every  knot  has  been  re- 
gularly undone.  He  possesses,  in  a  high  degree,  the 
capacity  of  holding  on  in  any  given  line  of  motion,  how- 
ever monotonous  and  inconvenient,  and  is  the  last  man 
in  Europe  who  will  start  out  of  his  way  to  chase  but- 
terflies. If  this  confined  inactivity  of  character  renders 
him,  in  some  respects,  a  less  pleasing  com[^anion,  it 
saves  him  likewise  from  many  vices  and  many  extra- 
vagances. If  he  be  somewhat  dull,  he  is  honest  and 
affectionate:  if  his  views  be  very  limited,  his  hands 
are  unwearied.  He  is  much  too  sober  minded  either 
to  sink  into  frivolity,  or  rise  to  enthusiasm  ;  he  betrays 
little  eagerness  for  information,  for  he  sees  little  use 
to  which  he  could  apply  it;  he  trusts  his  own  under- 
standing with  the  extremest  caution,  for  he  is  little 
accustomed  to  ratiocination.  Gottingen  is  said  t(  have 
had  a  most  beneficial  influence  on  the  culture  of  the 
nobility,  and  the  higher  ranks  of  the  citizens;  nor  was 
it  to  be  supposed,  that,  while  the  university  was  scat- 
tering abroad  so  much  good  seed  over  the  other  states 
of  Germany,  it  would  find  thorny  ground  only  in  its 
native  country. 


330  HANOVER. 

Though  a  strong  feeling  of  attachment  to  his  here- 
ditary prince  is  common  to  e\ery  German,  in  none  is  it 
more  deeply  rooted  than  in  the  Hanoverian.  It  ts  the 
most  inveterate  of  his  habits,  from  which  it  would  give 
him  infinite  pain  to  tear  himself  loose.  It  is  not  an 
opinion,  for  he  seldom  thinks,  and  never  argues  about 
what  monarchs  ought  to  be ;  ttiough  it  may  be  affected 
by  the  personal  qualities  of  the  ruler,  it  exists  indepen- 
dent of  them;  the  most  splendid  could  scarcely  rouse 
him  to  enthusiasm,  and  the  most  degrading  must  de- 
scend very  low,  indeed,  in  abasement,  before  they 
could  mislead  him  into  hatred  or  contempt.  Even  the 
long  absence  of  their  native  princes  has,  in  no  degree, 
diminished  their  affection  towards  them;  their  love  of 
the  Guelphs  has,  in  this  respect,  survived  trials  which 
fidelity  to  a  mistress  would  hardly  have  withstood. 
Nor  is  it  undeserved.  Among  its  own  people,  who 
are  the  best  judges,  and  even  among  the  writers  of  the 
liberal  party,  who  would  not  willingly  acknowledge  it 
if  it  were  not  true,  the  House  of  Hanover  enjoys  the 
reputation  of  having  always  governed  with  an  honest 
regard  to  the  welfare  of  its  subjects,  and  the  rights  of 
the  estates,  such  as  they  were.  It  has  neither  render- 
ed itself  hateful  by  niggardliness  and  private  oppress- 
ion, nor  bundensome  by  extravagance ;  the  liberality  of 
its  conduct  has  maintained  the  honour  of  the  country 
amvmg  its  neighbours,  and,  at  the  Congress  of  Vienna, 
Hanover  alone  fought  the  battle  for  the  political  ame- 
lioration of  Germany.  If  Napoleon  wished  to  win  on 
the  good  will  of  his  German  provinces,  and  found  his 
domination  on  something  more  respectable  and  secure 
than  mere  brute  force,  why  did  he  so  industriously  in- 
sult their  feelings,  and  irritate  their  prejudices?  In 
Hanover,  above  all,  the  partition  of  the  Electorate,  to 
throw  part  of  it  into  the  kingdom  of  Westphalia,  was 
a  deadly  sin  against  the  national  pride  of  the  people, 
for  which,  in  their  estimation,  no  anathemas  against  aris- 
tocratic exemptions  could  atone.     The  return  of  their 


THE  GOVERNMENT.  SSI 

native  sovereign  was,  to  them,  the  re-creation  of  their 
country,  which  Napoleon  had  blotted  out  from  among 
the  states  of  Germany.  When  I  was  in  Hanover,  the 
report  had  already  spread  that  his  Majesty  intended 
to  make  that  visit  to  liis  German  dominions  which  he 
soon  afterwards  executed.  The  people  were  mani- 
festly looking  forward  to  the  event,  not  with  the  im- 
patience of  a  Parisian  crowd  to  see  fine  sights,  for  no 
people  could  be  less  at  home  in  such  scenes  of  parade 
than  the  Hanoverians,  but  with  the  hearty  anxiety  of 
one  who  longs  to  meet  an  old  friend.  In  the  simplici- 
ty of  their  hearts,  they  had  taken  it  into  their  heads, 
that  the  King  was  coming  to  put  to  rights  any  little 
public  matters  which  they  had  some  indistinct  notion 
were  not  as  they  ought  to  be.  They  were  quite  sure, 
they  said,  that  if  they  sometimes  had  to  pay  more 
money  than  they  could  well  afford,  only  the  great 
folks  at  Hanover  were  to  blame  for  it;  nor  had  they 
any  sort  of  doubt,  but  that  his  Majesty  would  look  into 
every  thing  with  his  own  eyes,  and  right  what  required 
righting  with  his  own  hands.  This  feeling  is  univer- 
sal ;  the  government  is  popular ;  even  the  liberal  pam- 
phleteers allow  that  Hanover  has  no  reason  to  envy 
any  other  German  state. 

The  estates  of  the  kingdom  were  no^  rsspcmbled ; 
and,  even  if  thrv  had  beeii  sltlliig,  they  admit  no  wit- 
nesses of  their  deliberations.  There  is  a  large  dining- 
room,  with  three  or  four  rows  of  chairs  arranged  am- 
phitheatrically  in  front  of  a  throne  from  which  the  go- 
vernor delivers  his  speeches,  and  a  couple  of  handsome 
parlours  for  the  two  houses.  The  apartment  of  the 
first  chamber  is  the  largest  and  best  adorned,  for  it  was 
prepared  for  the  whole  estates,  before  their  reparation 
into  two  houses.  When  that  separation  took  place, 
the  peers  reserved  it  to  themselves,  and  sent  the  com- 
mons up  stairs  to  the  drawing-room.  It  is  even  sur- 
roimded  with  a  gallery,  fitted  up  for  the  spectators  in 
those  days   of  good    intentions,    but  which    has  never 


2S2  HANOVER. 

been  used.  The  members  have  fewer  legislative  con- 
veniences than  with  us.  There  are*  no  continuous 
benches  along  which  a  noble  lord  may  do^e  over  the 
state  of  Europe — no  gallery  where  an  honourable 
member  may  dream  a  reply  to  a  drowsy  oration — no 
smoking  room  where  he  may  digest  the  argument  with- 
out having  heard  the  speeches.  The  members  are 
ranged  behind  each  other  on  simple  chairs,  like  the 
company  at  a  Scotch  funeral,  and  much  less  luxuriously 
than  in  the  pit  of  many  an  Italian  theatre.  When  the 
house  divides,  they  repair  into  an  adjoining  room,  where 
they  find  pen  and  ink,  and  a  number  of  small  square 
pieces  of  paper,  on  which  the  Aye  or  No  is  to  be  writ- 
ten ;  if  the  m<irsels  be  exhausted,  there  are  scissars  to 
cut  new  ones.  The  array  of  scissars  is  magnificent ;  half  a 
dozen  pairs,  long,  sharp,  and  glittering,  adorn  the  table 
of  each  house,  instead  of  a  sceptre.  One  of  their  re- 
gulations might  be  advantageously  transferred  to  va- 
rious other  assemblies,  viz.,  that  when  a  member  ap- 
pears to  be  wearying  oiit  the  house  by  speaking  at  too 
great  length,  the  president  shall  put  him  in  mind,  dass 
er  sich  kurz  fasse^  that  ''  brevity  is  the  soul  of  wit." 

Both  chambers  are  elective,  for  even  the  first  con- 
sists only  of  deputies  chosen  by  the  nobility  of  the  dif- 
ferent provinces,  with  the  exception  of  a  few  mem- 
bers who  sit  in  virtue  of  their  rank  as  titular  dignified 
clergy,  that  is,  as  possessing  what  was  once  church 
property.  The  chamber  of  the  aristocracy  ought  ra- 
ther to  be  called  the  chamber  of  freeholders,  for  it  is, 
in  fact,  i\\e  representation  of  the  landed  interest,  as 
distinguished  from  the  population  and  manufacttiring  in- 
terest of  the  towns.  Though  every  person  who  has  a 
patent  of  nobilit),  and  a  Rittergut,  or  estate  noble,  has 
a  right  to  vote,  the  former  is  not  essential  to  the  fran- 
chise. It  iias  long  been  consuetudinary  law  in  Hano- 
ver, that  every  proprietor  of  a  Rittergut,  that  is,  every 
freeholder,  though  he  should  not  have  the  honours  and 
privileges  of  nobility  in  his   person,  is  Landtagsfahig. 


THE  GOVERNMENT.  233 

entitlefl,  that  is,  to  appear  pcrconally  in  the  estates, 
while  that  form  of  assembly  prevailed,  and  now  to  vote 
in  the  election  ol'  the  deputies  who  represent  his  pro- 
vince. In  some  parts  of  the  kingdom,  a  great  quanti- 
ty of  allodial  property  has  sprung  up.  It  is  chiefly 
found  on  what  are  called  the  Marschlanden^  formerly 
morasses,  stretching  along  the  banks  of  the  Weser  and 
the  Elbe,  where  inundations  had  deposited  the  rudi- 
ments of  a  fertile  soil,  unclaimed  either  by  the  Crown 
or  the  feudal  nobility  while  it  remained  in  its  original 
barrenness — drained  of  its  waters,  and  defended  against 
the  stream,  by  a  peasantry  that  settled  among  its  in- 
salubrious damps  from  the  same  love  of  security  which 
created  the  fields  of  Holland,  and  founded  a  city  of 
princes  on  the  waves  of  the  Adriatic — gradually 
brought,  by  the  industry  of  centuries,  to  be  the  most 
fertile  district  of  the  kingdom,  and  now  swarming  with 
an  affluent  and  independent  rustic  population.  All 
these  proprietors  have  not  only  been  admitted  to  the 
elective  franchise,  but,  instead  of  being  thrown  in  w^ith 
the  noble  proprietors  around  them,  they  elect  tlieir 
own  members. 

The  chambers  are  very  doubtful  about  the  extent 
of  their  powers.  It  is  certain  that  they  can  do  nothing 
without  the  consent  of  the  executive,  in  other  words, 
that  the  veto  of  the  crown  is  absolute,  but  it  is  much 
less  certain  whether  the  crown  is  bound  to  yield  \\'\\k^,n 
tlie  chambers  declare  against  it.  Some  proprietors  of 
estates  not  noble,  petitioned  the  House  to  be  admitted 
to  the  representation  ;  the  House  surely  mistook  its 
duty  in  voting,  that  this  was  not  a  matter  fit  for  deli- 
beration before  them,  but  appertained  solely  to  the  ex- 
ecutive. The  government,  however,  is  allowed,  on 
all  hands,  to  have  acted  with  a  sincere  wish  to  do 
good.  In  an  edict  organizing  the  militia,  it  prohibited 
any  serviceable  male  from  fixing  his  domicile  in  a  fo- 
rtiigri  cojintry,  without  its  permission  ;  the  Comn7ons 
immediately  quarrelled  this,  as  contrary  to  the  liberty 

30 


254  HANOVER. 

of  the  subject,  and  the  natural  right  of  every  man  to 
live  where  he  chooses ;  and  the  ministry  yielded  the 
point.  If  firmly  refused  to  re-establish  the  nobility  in 
the  old  exemptions  from  taxation  and  military  service, 
which  Napoleon  had  first  shaken.  The  nobility  made 
an  obstinate  struggle  to  retain  their  exemption  from 
the  land-tax,  but  in  vain,  though  the  majority  in  the 
estates  belonged  to  their  own  class;  for  there  were 
many  of  them  to  whom  the  frowns  of  the  court  were 
more  formidable  than  the  pressure  of  a  tax.  Resist- 
ing likewise,  their  claims  to  monopolize  all  the  lucra- 
tive and  influential  offices  of  the  state,  the  government 
has  employed  commoners  of  talent,  wherever  it  could 
find  them,  both  in  the  civil  administration  and  in  the 
army.  There  is  no  German  court  where  ability  and 
honesty,  to  whatever  rank  they  may  belong,  are  allow- 
ed fairer  play. 

The  most  imprudent  thing  which  the  Estates  have 
done  was  wrapping  up  their  proceedings  in  such  impe- 
netrable secrecy.  By  a  majority  of  two  votes,  they 
excluded  the  public  from  being  present  at  their  deli- 
berations. Then,  although  they  ordered  an  epitome  of 
their  journals,  containing  important  reports  made  by 
committees,  propositions  submitted  to  the  Chamber, 
and  its  final  decision  upon  them,  to  be  regularly  print- 
ed, this  compend  was  intended  only  for  the  members 
themselves,  and  was  anxiously  kept  back  from  indiscri- 
minate publication.  The  consequence  is,  that  the  great 
body  of  the  citizens  take  no  interest  in  proceedings  of 
which  they  know  nothing.  The  leading  men  of  the 
ministry,  and  the  Governor  himself,  are  believed  to  be 
favourable  to  publicity  ;  and  the  example  of  Weimar 
shows,  that,  even  under  a  much  more  popular  system 
of  representation  than  is  yet  established  m  Hanover, 
deputies  may  cling  to  secrecy,  while  the  government 
recommends  publicity.  Professor  Luden  of  Jena,  who 
is  himself  a  Hanoverian  by  birth,  published,  in  1817,  a 
history  and  review  of  the  proceedings  of  the  Estates, 


THE  PRESS.  235 

from  their  first  meeting  after  the  expulsion  of  the 
French  down  to  that  year.*  It  is  a  sensible,  and,  in  no 
point  of  view,  a  reprehensible  book:  though  it  some- 
times questions  the  propriety  of  the  decisions  of  the 
Estates,  both  they  and  the  government  are  treated, 
not  only  with  respect,  but  with  eulogy.  Yet  it  seems 
to  have  been  proscribed,  on  no  other  imaginable  ground, 
than  because  it  discusses  the  discussions  of  the  Cham- 
ber. At  least,  no  bookseller  in  Hanover  would  say 
that  he  had  it ;  and  I  procured  it  only  by  the  polite- 
ness of  a  Privy  Councillor  who  allowed  me  to  make 
use  of  his  name.  Thus  there  seems  to  be  a  possibility 
of  suppressiiig,  without  incurring  the  odium  of  prohi- 
biting. 

It  has  long  been  a  popular  belief  in  England  that 
Hanover  is  mischievous  to  us;  that  it  is  a  trilling  patri- 
monial apjjendage  of  our  monarchs  which  draws  us  un- 
necessarily into  expensive  continental  quarrels.  How- 
ever, to  use  a  common  phrase,  there  is  no  love  lost  be- 
tween us  and  the  Hanoverians.  They  are  in  no  de- 
gree flattered  by  their  king  wearing  the  crown  of  En- 
gland; if  it  gives  their  cabinet  political  weight,  they 
feel  that  thev  shine  in  borrowed  lio:ht.  The  well  edu- 
Gated  classes  laugh  at  the  Englishman  who  retails  the 
assertion,  that  Hanover  does  Britain  mischief:  "It  is 
we,"  say  they,  "  who  suffer.  When  the  King  of  Ha- 
nover is  offended,  the  King  of  England  is  not  bound  to 
resent  his  injuries  ;  but  when  the  King  of  England  gets 
into  a  continental  quarrel,  Hanover  with  no  earthly  in- 
terest in  the  dispute,  is  the  first  victim  of  the  rupture." 

*  Das  Konigreich  Hannover,  nach  seinen  offentlichen  Verhalt- 
nissen. 


236  THE  HARZ, 


CHAPTER  IX. 

BRUNSWICK — MAGDEBURGH — POTSDAM—- BERLIN. 

Sprache  gab  mir  einst  Ramler,  und  Stoflf  mein  Casar  ;  da  nahm  Ich 
Meineii  Muud  etwas  voll,  aber  ich  schweige  seitdem. 

Schiller.     The  Spree  loquitur. 

Scarcely  out  of  the  gates  of  Hanover,  and  the 
wheels  already  drowned  in  sand  up  to  the  axielree  ; 
taedium  to  the  eje,  and  death  to  the  patience  of  X\\e 
traveller,  with  the  additional  vexation  of  paying  tolls 
for  permission  to  follow  the  most  convenient  track 
which  his  postilion  can  find  among  the  fir-irees,  where 
no  road  has  ever  existed  since  the  flood,  which  seems 
to  have  left  these  sands  behind  it.  But  it  is  unreason- 
able to  get  into  a  passion  at  the  bad  roads  in  these 
parts  of  Hanover  and  Brunswick ;  for  what  can  be  ex- 
pected where  the  soil  is  only  a  deep,  arid  sand,  and 
not  a  pound  weight  of  stone  is  to  be  procured,  except 
at  an  expense  which  the  finances  can  ill  bear?  Not- 
withstanding the  tolls,  few  roads  in  Germany  support 
themselves;  xnouey  iov  Strassenhau^  that  is,  for  mak- 
ing and  upholding  roads,  is  a  regular  item  in  the  annual 
budsfet  of  every  state.  The  roads  are  thus  a  conti- 
nual  burden  on  the  public  treasury  ;  and,  as  poverty  is 
the  besetting  infirmity,  they  must  share  in  the  imper- 
fections of  all  puhlic  matters  that  require  money. 

While  toiling  through  this  German  Zara,  with  what 
longing  the  eye  turns  to  the  lofty  and  lengthened 
rido^e  of  tfie  Harz,  which  bounds  it  on  the  south,  once, 
probably,  the  mountainous  shore  of  a  sea,  that  gradu- 
ally receded  from  these  level  deserts.  There,  all  is 
varied  and  romantic  ;  the  ancient  pines  seem  to  frown 
contemptuously  on  their  stunted  brethren  which  en- 


BRUNSWICK.  2^7 

cumber  the  plain;  villages  and  spires  start  out  from 
their  shade  ;  deep  cleits  and  shattered  precipices 
overlook  ihern  \n  a  thousand  imposing  forms.  Above 
them  all  rises  the  Blocksberg,  since  lime  nnniemorial 
the  Pandemonium  oi  Europe,  and  the  only  spot  which 
persecuting  incredulity  has  left  to  the  adepts  in  the 
black  art,  where  ail  the  Avizarda  and  witches  of  the  ci- 
vilized world  still  assemble,  on  May  morning,  to  com- 
mune with  their  horned  master,  and  celebrate,  under 
his  guidance,  their  unholy  orgies. 

Amid  this  wilderness,  time  and  money  have  contriv- 
ed to  surround  Brunswick  with  verdant  groves,  in 
which  lovers  whisper,  and  nightingales  sing,  all  the 
night  long.  The  city  is  both  larger  than  Hanover,  and 
wears  a  more  cheerful  external  aspect ;  but  it  seemed 
to  have  still  less  bustle  and  activity,  and  the  peoj»le 
were  impatiently  waiting  till  the  niajonty  of  the  young 
Duke  should  restore  their  court.  The  Gothic  cathe- 
dral, begun  in  the  twelfth  century  by  Henry  the  Lion, 
whom  the  Brunswickers  consider  the  great  ornament 
of  their  ancient  family,  is  an  imposing  edliice,  but  is 
polluted  w^ith  an  incongruous  style  of  ornament  which 
betravs  an  eastern  origin.  The  tall  pillars  of  the 
nave,  for  example,  have  small  ones  twisted  round 
them. 

In  a  valt  beneath,  lies  a   long  line  of  the  princes  of 

Brunswick.     The  plain  oaken  colHn  oj  Ferdinand,  the 

great  Captain  of  the  great  Frederick,  is  the  simplest  of 

all.     Near  him  lies  the  late  Duke,  who  fell  at  Quatre 

Bras.     Tw'o  small  crimson  flags,  the    one    an   ctiering 

from  the  matrons,  and  the  other  from  the  maidens  of 

Brunswick,   are   suspended   above    his    coffin ;  and  its 

gaudy  gold  and  crimson  are  still  mixed  with  the  brown 

and  withered  leaves  of  the  garlands  which  the  love  of 

-I'll 
his  people  scattered  on  his  bier  when,  at  midnight,   he 

w?is  laid  among  so   many  of  his  race,  who  had  fought 

and  fallen  like  himself.     Every  Brunswickcr  speaks  of 

his  memory  w^ith  pride  and  affection :  there  was  much 


£38  THE  MUSEUM. 

that  was  heroic  and  chivalrous  in  his  character,  and* 
raucfi  that  was  interesting  in  his  fortunes.  He  was  full 
of  that  warhke  spirit  which  the  history  of  their  prin- 
ces has  taught  the  Brunswickers  to  consider  an  inheri- 
tance of  the  famiij.  No  man  deserved  better  to  fill  a 
place  in  this  honoured  vault  which,  besides  Ferdinand, 
who  won  the  warrior's  fame  without  finding  the  war- 
rior's  gravt),  and  Leopold,  who  perished  in  the  Oder, 
attempting  to  save  the  peasantry  during  an  inundation, 
contains  no  fewer  than  nine  princes  of  the  House  of 
Brunswick,  more  than  one  of  them  heads  of  the  house, 
who,  since  the  beginning  of  the  last  century,  have 
fallen  on  the  field  of  battle — a  testimony  of  devoted- 
ness  to  duty  which  no  other  sovereign  house  of  Europe 
can  exhibit,  and  justifying,  by  the  general  character  of 
the  family,  still  more  than  by  the  fate  of  one  unfor- 
tunate prince,  the  song  of  him  who  announced  that 
Germany's 

Chnmpion  ere  he  strikes  will  come, 


And  whet  his  sword  on  Brunswick''s  lomb» 

The   most   interestino:   thing   in  the  Museum  is  the 
Mantuan    vase,   or    Brunswick    onyx,   an  antique  gem 
which  has  puzzled  the  learned  scarcely   less    than  the 
Portland  vase.     The  stone  is  about  half  a  foot  long;  its 
form  is  oblong,  but  it  has  been  shaped  into  the  fashion 
of  a  vase,  with  a  golden  rim  and  handle.     The  ground 
colour,  a  very  deep  brown,  is   varied  with  patches  of 
white,  some  clouds  of  a  dim  yellow,  and  still  few^er  of  a 
dark  grey.     At  about  two  thirds  of  its  depth  from  the 
mouth,  it  is   divided  by  a  circular  band   of  gold,  and 
both   the    upper   and    lower   compartments  are  filled 
with  figures,  cut    in   low    relief,   in   a  style  which  has 
made  the  gem  be  universally  received  as  Grecian,  but 
which  betokens,  at  the  same  time,  no  masterly  hand, 
nor  any  blooming  period  of  the  art.     It  has  commonly 
been  lield    to  refer  to  the  Eleusynian  mysteries ;   but 
Emperius,  the  director  of  the   museum,  said  that  he 


BRUNSWICK.  239 

was  writing  a  dissertation  to  prove  that  It  represents 
the  1  hesmophorian  mysteries  which  were  celebrated 
in  honour  of  Ceres.  He  holds  it  to  be  a  work  of 
Alexandria,  executed  in  the  time  of  the  Ptolemies. 

Nothing  can  give  a  higher  idea  of  Diirer's  anxious 
finisljlng.  than  a  sculpture  (and  he  has  not  left  many  of 
them)  which  represents  the  Baptist  preaching  in  ihe 
wilderness.  The  figures  are  partly  In  relief,  partly 
round  ;  and  though  there  Is  here  and  there  a  S[)rmk- 
h'ng  of  trivlalness,  or  an  anachroiiism  In  costume,  tl.ey 
are  far  from  being  deficient  either  in  beauty  orex-jcs- 
slon.  The  Baptist  is  elevated  somewhat  above  his 
hearers,  and  stands  behind  a  fragment  of  a  paling,  over 
which  he  thumps  with  orthodox  energy.  His  congre- 
gation consists,  not  of  Jews,  but  c^f  Germans.  From 
the  style  of  grouping  and  the  smallness  of  the  figures, 
(the  whole  stone  is  not  more  than  a  foot  s(juare,)  some 
parts  of  the  work  must  have  required  consummate 
dexterity  of  manipulation.  A  lady  and  a  knight  are 
standing  in  the  Inner  part  of  the  crowd,  their  faces  di- 
rected to  the  pi'eacher,  and  their  backs,  therefore, 
turned  to  the  spectator.  The  figures  are  entirely 
round;  and  no  common  delicacy  of  hand  was  necessary 
to  work  out  the  countenances  with  so  much  exactness 
in  so  difficult  a  position.  The  knight  lost  his  sword 
during  his  journey  to  England,  for  the  more  valuable 
part  of  the  contents  of  the  museum  were  sent  to  this 
country  to  preserve  them  from  French  rapine.  De- 
non  lounofed  amons;  what  remained,  and  selected  at  his 
leisure  all  that  seemed  worth  carrvins:  off. 

Helmstadt  was  formerly  the  university  of  Bruns- 
wick ;  but  the  seminary  was  abolished  in  1808,  and 
has  not  been  re-established.  The  duchy  Is  too  small 
a  territory  to  require  a  university,  and  too  poor  to 
support  a  good  one,  and  Gottingen  is  as  near  as  it  is  to 
Hanover.  Immediately  beyond  the  gates  of  Helm- 
stadt comes  the  Prussian  frontier.  At  Magdeburg, 
the  first  Prussian  town,  you  find  nothing  but  ramparts, 


240  ROADS. 

and  ditches,  and  drawbridges,  and  cannon,  following, 
in  fearful  array,  one  range  behind  another,  till  you 
reach  the  heart  of  the  city.  It  is  a  crowded  and 
bustling  town;  washed  by  the  Elbe,  it  is  the  entrepot 
of  all  the  wares  and  merchandize  that  enter  or  leave 
Gerniariy  by  the  river.  The  cathedral  has  merely 
the  merit  of  being  very  spacious,  and  contains  almost 
as  many  pohtical  and  militaiy  emblems  as  religious 
allusions.  The  Prussian  eagle  overshadows  with  his 
pinions  an  old  inscription  which  commemorates  the 
first  celebration  of  the  sacrament  accordino:  to  the  re- 
formed  ritual  ;  in  front  of  the  pulpit  the  iron  cros^  is 
elevated  on  a  pillar,  with  a  flag  and  a  pike  as  support- 
ers ;  and  the  walls  of  the  choir  are  covered  with 
public  tablets  to  officers  who  fell  in  the  Liberation 
War. 

Here  there  is  no  barrenness  ;  the  territory  of  Mag- 
deburgh,  stretching  along  the  banks  of  the  Elbe,  over 
a  soil  gradually  formed  by  the  depositions  of  his  inun- 
dations, or  reclaimed  from  marshes  which  they  had 
left  behind,  is  the  most  fruitful  corn  land  in  the  noi  th 
of  Germany.  It  used  to  export  a  great  quantity  of 
grain;  but  they  now  complain  that  our  prohibition  has 
seriously  injured  their  market. 

This  gleam  of  fertility  soon  dies  away,  as  the  Elbe 
is  left  behind,  and  the  dreary  sands  again  return.  The 
road  is  the  great  line  of  communication  between  this 
depot  of  trade  and  the  capital ;  there  is  necessarily  a 
great  deal  of  travelling,  as  well  as  of  inland  carriage 
upon  it ;  yet  some  portions  of  it  are,  beyond  compa- 
rison, the  worst  in  Europe.  The  reason  is,  the  Avant 
of  materials,  and  the  enormous  expense  of  transport- 
ing from  a  distance  the  quantity  necessary  to  construct 
such  a  road,  and  keep  it  in  repair.  Much,  however, 
has  been  done.  The  whole  line  is  about  ninetv  Eno;- 
lish  miles ;  the  twenty  miles  between  Potsdam  and 
Berlin  have  long  been  good,  because  the  convenience 
of  the  court  required  it;  but,  of  late  years,  it  has  been 


POTSDAM.  241 

carried  a  great  deal  farther,  and  an  excellent  chaussee 
now  extends,  on  the  one  side,  sixty  miles  from  Berlin, 
and,  on  the  other,  seven  miles  from  Maf^cle burgh. 
The  rest  of  the  line,  however,  is  infamous.  It  is  an 
unceasing  pull  through  loose  dry  sand,  which  rises  to 
the  very  nave  of  the  wheel,  frequently  encumbered 
with  the  remains  of  languishing  iir-woods,  and  present- 
ing no  single  object  to  relieve  the  eye  :  for  the  scanty 
crops,  which  industry  and  penury  have  laboured  to 
raise  even  here,  look  equally  melancholy  with  every 
thing  around  them,  as  if  mourning  the  impossibility  of 
man  overcoming  in  their  favour  so  reluctant  a  nature. 

The  traveller  thinks  himself  entering  a  paradise 
when  he  approaches,  at  Brandenburgh,  the  banks  of 
the  Havel ;  the  fresh  remembrance  of  the  wilderness- 
es through  which  he  has  just  passed,  gives  to  these 
little  green  wooded  and  watered  landscapes  the  en- 
chantment of  fairy  land.  The  Havel  seems  to  have 
been  made  expressly  for  the  country.  It  is  not  uni- 
formly confined  within  a  distinctly  marked  channel, 
but  often  spreads  itself  out  into  small  lakes,  through 
the  middle  of  which  it  keeps  its  course,  while  copse- 
wood  and  villages  are  strewed  thickly  over  their 
sloping  banks,  and  almost  every  eminence  is  crowned 
with  a  wind-mill.  The  most  varied  and  pleasing  spot 
of  this  kind  is  in  the  bend  where  the  river,  which  has 
hitherto  flowed  south,  wlieels  round  to  the  westward 
to  seek  the  Elbe,  and  here  Frederick  the  great  built 
Potsdam.  As  the  king  built  merely  for  the  sake  of 
making  a  handsome  town,  it  is  full  of  architectural  pa- 
rade, with  splendid  streets,  in  which  scarcely  a  human 
being  is  to  be  seen,  except  the  lounging  military  ;  and 
magnificent  buildings,  whose  florid  ornaments  are  some- 
times in  ridiculous  contrast  with  the  purposes  to  which 
the  houses  are  now  applied.  A  superb  edifice,  a  copy 
of  the  temple  of  Nerva  in  Rome,  is  now  an  inn  ;  but 
the  original  itself  has  become  the  pontifical  custom- 
house. It  is  not  uncommon  to  see  warlike  instruments 
31 


242  SANS  SOUCI. 

and  mllltaiy  trophies  crowded  over  the  door  and  win- 
dows of  a  tailor,  a  whole  range  of  goddesses  and 
nymphs  adorning  a  pork  shop,  or  Cupids,  with  much 
greater  propriety,  sporting  above  the  cornices  of  a 
milliner.  "  The  pomp  and  circumstance  of  war"  is 
ail  the  pomp  and  circumstance  of  which  Potsdam  can 
now  boast.     Potsdam  is,  in  fact,  a  splendid  garrison. 

Sans  Souci  stands  on  an  eminence  close  behind  the 
town.  It  is  a  long,  low  building,  destitute  of  architec- 
tural parade,  although  adorned  with  a  double  circular 
portico,  a  beautiful  object  in  itself,  but  much  too  mag- 
nificent for  the  main  building.  The  prospect  is  con- 
fined ;  it  has,  however,  as  much  of  what  is  pleasant  as 
could  be  found  in  this  country.  It  takes  in  a  large 
portion  of  the  Havel,  spreading  out  its  lakes  among 
green  fields  and  wooded  eminences,  and  here  and 
there  diversified  by  a  passing  sail.  Were  it  less  pleas- 
ing than  it  really  is,  who  would  not  gaze  upon  it  with 
interest,  when  he  reflected  that  Frederick  loved  to 
dwell  upon  its  features,  and  sought  in  them  the  only  re- 
pose which  he  allowed  himself  to  enjoy  from  the  dan- 
gers of  the  field  and  the  labours  of  the  cabinet  ? 
Even  the  bad  humour  into  which  a  stranger  is  thrown 
by  the  mean  and  disgraceful,  but  privileged,  extortions 
of  the  attendants,  gives  place  to  the  respectful  interest 
with  which  he  lingers  among  the  scenes  that  supplied 
the  simple  pleasures  of,  not  only  a  great,  but  a  won- 
derful man. 

The  apartments  of  the  king  himself  are  extremely 
simple.  Like  the  rest  of  the  palace,  they  are  hung 
with  very  mediocre  French  pictures,  which,  it  is  to  be 
hoped,  for  the  sake  of  Frederick's  taste,  he  took  no 
pleasure  in  looking  at.  He  had  more  fitting  compa- 
nions in  some  ancient  busts,  set  up  in  a  long  narrow 
gallery,  in  which  he  used  to  walk,  when  the  weather 
denied  him  this  exercise  out  of  doors.  The  library,  a 
small  circular  room,  contains  his  books  as  he  left  them. 
They  are  all  French,  but  many  of  them  arc   transla- 


POTSDAM.  243 

tions  of  the  great  productions  of  other  countries. 
Frederick's  bell,  his  inkstand  and  sandbox,  his  sofa  and 
little  table,  still  retain  their  place.  Tiie  bed  has  been 
removed  from  the  chamber  where  he  died,  and  a 
writing-desk  occupies  the  place  of  the  old  chair  in 
which  he  breathed  his  lest — trifling  alterations,  no 
doubt,  but  injurious  to  the  romance  of  the  thing.  The 
portrait  of  Gustavus  Adolphus,  the  only  ornament 
which  Frederick  admitted  into  his  bed-room,  has  been 
allowed  to  remain.  The  apartment  which  was  appro- 
priated to  Voltaire  is  the  most  vulgar  of  all.  The 
walls  are  covered  with  flowers  and  garlands,  coarsely 
carved  in  wood,  and  bedaubed  with  glaring  colours. 
I  know  not  who  selected  this  style  of  ornament ;  but 
the  crowd  of  wooden  parrots,  perched  among  the 
wooden  chaplets,  proves  either  the  bad  taste  of  the 
poet,  or  the  satirical  humour  of  the  king.  Some  other 
apartments  are  splendid  in  their  architecture  and  de- 
corations ;  but  there  are  more  splendid  things  of  the 
same  kind  in  fifty  other  palaces.  We  visit  Sans  Souci, 
too,  not  because  it  is  a  palace,  but  because  Frederick 
the  Great  lived  in  it. 

The  grounds  are  not  extensive.  In  that  part  of 
them  which  lies  immediately  below  the  palace,  and 
was  the  favourite  resort  of  the  monarch,  all  is  rich, 
shady,  and  tranquil ;  you  would  believe  yourself  a 
thousand  miles  removed  from  the  bustle  of  men. 
Even  the  French  horns  of  the  Jager  Guards,  swelling 
from  the  barracks  below,  instead  of  disturbing,  only 
sweetened  the  repose  of  the  scene.  Those  parts  of 
the  grounds,  again,  which  are  thrown  open  indiscrimi- 
nately to  the  public  are  merely  shady,  sandy  prome- 
nades, commonly  terminated  by  a  small  building,  either 
an  European  oriental  or  a  modern  antique.  Frederick 
could  not  give  his  subjects  and  visitors  much  varied 
scenery,  or  many  picturesque  glimpses;  but  he  gave 
them  a  profusion  of  pillars  and  pediments.  He  seems 
to  have  been  fondly  tied  to  every  thing  which  con- 


244  POTSDAM. 

trlbuted  to  his  pleasures ;  and  no  great  monarch's 
pleasures  were  ever  more  simple  and  innocent.  His 
generals  do  not  appear  to  have  stood  higher  in  his 
heart  than  his  dogs.  A  number  of  the  latter  are 
buried  in  the  grounds,  and  honoured  with  tomb-stones. 
Beside  them  lies  the  horse  which  bore  him  through 
many  a  hard  fought  field  in  the  Seven  Years'  War. 

Though  the  foundation  of  a  new  collection  of  pic- 
tures has  been  laid  in  Berlin,  the  proper  gallery  of 
Prussia  is  in  Potsdam,  and  contains  many  admirable 
works.  It  was  principally  formed  by  Frederick,  and 
mercilessly  treated  by  the  French.  If  there  was  some 
affectation  in  Frederick,  when  he  entered  Dresden  as 
a  conqueror,  craving  permission  of  the  Electress  to 
look  at  the  pictures,  yet  the  feeling  of  respect  which 
made  him  approach  them  as  a  worshipper,  not  as  a 
robber,  was  princely.  Napoleon  came  to  Potsdam  as 
a  conqueror,  took  off  his  hat  when  he  entered  what 
had  been  Frederick's  apartment,  and  let  loose  his 
plunderers  upon  Frederick's  pictures.  Prussian  bayo- 
nets have  brought  them  all  back,  but  some  of  them 
much  injured  by  French  improvements. 

The  palm  of  the  gallery  is  disputed  between  Da 
Vinci,  Raphael,  and  Titian.  There  are  several  pic- 
tures by  these  masters,  but  the  three  which  contend 
for  the  prize  are,  of  Da  Vinci,  Vertumnus,  in  the  dis- 
guise of  an  old  woman,  persuading  Pomona  to  throw 
off  her  virgin  coyness,  and  learn  to  love  ;  of  Raphael, 
an  Ecce  Homo  ;  of  Titian,  a  sleeping  Venus.  In  the 
first,  Pomona  is  seated  in  an  orchard,  beneath  a  tree, 
whose  fruit  she  has  been  gathering.  Vertumnus,  with 
a  wrinkled,  but  not  a  vulgar  visage,  leaning  on  a  staff, 
which  he  scarcely  seems  to  require,  bends  towards  her 
in  an  attitude  of  eager  exhortation.  There  is  a  cer- 
tain play  about  the  withered  features,  which  tells  that 
he  sees  his  oration  is  beginning  to  work.  The  bashful 
beauty  hangs  her  head  ;  a  smile  of  mingled  increduli- 
ty and  approbation  lights  the  under  part  of  her  beauti- 


THE  GALLERY.  245 

ful  countenance  ;  her  hands  are  busied  about  her  fruits 
and  flowers  in  a  way  which  shows  that  her  thoughts 
are  occupied  with  something  else.  Besides  the  excel- 
lence of  the  individual  figures,  the  picture  derives 
great  effect  from  the  contrast  in  which  they  are  plac- 
ed, blushing,  blooming  youth  and  simplicity  by  the 
side  of  wrinkled  and  wily  old  age.  The  great  merit 
of  Raphael's  Ecce  Homo  lies  in  its  lofty  ideal  expres- 
sion ;  it  is  the  highest  possible  degree  of  mental  suf- 
fering, purified  from  every  thing  mean  and  vulgar,  an- 
nouncing not  merely  the  agony  of  the  soul,  but  like- 
wise the  fortitude  and  resignation  with  which  it  is 
borne.  Titian's  sleeping  Venus,  without  a  rag  of 
drapery,  reclines,  on  her  right  side,  on  a  blue  couch, 
the  breast  and  head  being  somewhat  elevated  on  a 
white  pillow.  The  back  is  turned  towards  the  spec- 
tator ;  the  left  leg  is  bent  into  the  picture,  thus  pre- 
senting the  prettiest  sole  of  the  prettiest  foot  that 
ever  was  painted.  The  arms  are  folded  ui;dcr  the 
head,  and  the  countenance  is  half  turned  round.  The 
softness  and  elegance  of  the  whole  figure,  the  sym- 
metry of  the  proportions,  and,  above  all,  the  truth 
and  delicacy  of  the  colouring,  are  things  which  cannot 
be  described,  and  in  which  it  excels  both  its  competi- 
tors. In  expression,  again,  it  is  necessarily  far  beneath 
them ;  for,  although  enthusiasts  have  pretended  to 
guess  even  what  the  slumbering  beauty  is  dreaming 
about,  all  the  soul  which  such  a  figure  can  possess  is 
merely  animal  life.  Frederick  paid  five  thousand 
guineas  for  the  Pomona,  and  three  thousand  for  the 
Ecce  Homo.  The  superintendent  of  the  gallery  told 
me,  that  when  the  righteous  work  of  restitution  was 
begun  at  Paris,  the  French  were  so  intent  on  retaining 
the  Pomona,  that,  for  a  while,  they  pretended  it  had 
gone  a-missing.  The  acknowledgment,  that  they  could 
be  guilty  of  the  barbarous  negligence  of  allowing  such 
a  picture  to  be  lost,  was  not  less  disgraceful  than  the 
lie  itself. 


246  POTSDAM. 

The  waking  Venus  of  Titian  is  insipid  after  her 
sleeping  namesake.  In  the  back  ground,  there  once 
was  a  landscape,  with  two  persons  seated  under  a  tree, 
and  one  of  the  two  was  a  portrait  of  Titian  himself. 
In  Paris,  the  picture  was  cleaned^  that  is,  the  landscape 
disappeared,  and,  though  the  figures  remain,  the  por- 
trait is  gone.  Titian's  Danae  has  returned  entirely 
ruined  ;  the  picture  is  spoiled  ;  colouring,  expression, 
and  perspective,  are  all  destroyed.  A  small  Madonna, 
by  Correggio,  shows  still  more  clearly  how  little  the 
original  colouring  of  an  artist  was  able  to  resist  this 
process  of  cleaning ;  for,  when  submitted  to  this  re- 
formation in  Paris,  a  groupe  of  angels,  in  the  upper 
right  hand  corner,  which  Correggio  himself  had  effac- 
ed, apparently  from  feeling  that  they  overloaded  this 
part  of  the  picture,  was  brought  to  light. 

The  walls  groan  under  Rubens.  The  Israelites, 
perishing  by  the  fiery  serpents  in  the  wilderness,  is  a 
powerful  picture.  Though  not  so  chaste  or  restrain- 
ed in  the  agonizing  expression  which  belonged  to  the 
scene  as  the  representation  of  the  same  subject  by 
Hannibal  Caracci,  it  has  much  more  force  of  grouping 
and  colouring.  The  most  powerful  figure  is  that  of  a 
man  expiring  under  the  influence  of  the  poison;  a  ser- 
pent, coiled  round  his  body,  is  biting  into  his  throat. 
The  wretch  is  extended  on  the  ground,  and  never  was 
the  death  struggle  delineated  with  more  horrible  truth. 
Every  limb  and  feature  is  cramped  and  convulsed,  and 
the  natural  colour  is  already  giving  way  to  a  dark, 
livid  hue.  Another  excellent  groupe  is  an  old  woman, 
who,  with  an  anxiety  that  threatens  to  render  the  ex- 
ertion useless,  strives  to  raise  in  her  arms  a  grown  up 
daughter,  that  she  may  turn  her  eyes  to  the  healing 
serpent. 

Few  pictures  in  Potsdam  please  more  than  some 
splendid  specimens  of  the  historical  style  of  Vandyke. 
If  not  successful  competitors  with  Rubens,  they  are 
dangerous  neighbours   to  him.     Vandyke  had   drawn 


EERLIN.  £47 

much  from  the  best  schools  that  preceded  him  ;  yet 
he  is  any  thing  but  a  mannerist  or  imitator  ;  his  group- 
ing and  expression  are  entirely  his  own;  and  the  Dutch 
and  German  painters  never  required  to  cross  the  Alps 
to  learn  colouring.  His  St.  Matthew  is  the  perfection 
of  placid,  dignified  meditation.  It  may  have  been  bad 
taste,  but  the  simplicity  of  composition,  the  truth  of 
expression,  and  the  mild  balancing  of  light  and  shade 
in  his  Isaac  blessing  Jacob  instead  of  Esau,  drew  me 
irresistibly  from  the  gorgeous  masses  of  Rubens  by 
which  it  is  surrounded. 

Though  it  was  only  May-day  when  I  entered  Ber- 
lin, the  heat  was  more  oppressive  than  that  cf  Lom- 
bardy  or  Romagna  during  the  dog-days.  The  ther- 
mometer does  not  absolutely  stand  so  high  ;  but,  from 
the  action  of  the  sun  on  the  sandy  soil  which  surrounds 
the  Prussian  capital,  the  heat  has  a  sultry  and  vapoury 
quality,  which  renders  Berlin  a  disagreeable  residence 
in  summer.  Many  famihes  fly  to  Dresden  to  seek  less 
insalubrious  dog-days,  and  the  inhabitants  of  this  raw 
northern  climate  enjoy  the  shade  under  the  lime  trees 
which  adorn  their  principal  street,  as  late  in  the  even- 
ing as  Italians  on  the  verandas  of  Naples,  or  under  the 
porticoes  of  Romagna.  Even  the  street  musicians  ge- 
nerally come  forth  to  their  labours  towards  midnight; 
while,  in  the  Linden,  the  citizens  furnish  a  more  pleas- 
ing serenade,  by  hanging  out  nightingales  from  their 
windows  or  on  the  branches  of  the  trees,  where  they 
sing  all  night  long,  "  most  musical,  most  melancholy." 

The  entrance  to  Berlin  from  the  west  is  by  the  Bran- 
denburgh  Gate,  the  most  simple  and  majestic  portal  in 
Europe.  It  is  an  imitation  of  the  Propylaeum  of  Athens. 
Six  lofty,  fluted,  Doric  pillars,  on  each  side,  support  an 
entablature,  without  any  pediment;  a  gateway,  not 
arched,  passes  between  each  couple  of  pillars.  On  tlie 
entablature  stands  the  bronze  figure  of  Victory,  drawn 
in  her  chariot  by  four  horses,  and  bearing  the  Prussian 
Eagle  in  triumph.     It  is  a  very  spirited  work,  and  was 


248  BERLIN. 

therefore  sent  to  France,  not  more  on  account  of  its 
own  merits,  than  to  insuU  the  Prussians.  Their  good 
swords  have  replaced  the  goddess  on  their  Athenian 
portal,  where  she  seems  to  guide  her  steeds,  amid  a 
hundred  memorials  of  Frederick,  towards  the  royal 
palace.  Though  the  guard-houses  which  spring  out 
from  each  extremity  of  the  gate  are  in  the  same  ge- 
neral style,  they  look  insignificant,  and  somewhat  en- 
cumber the  imposing  forms  to  which  they  are  attach- 
ed. Close  by  is  the  house  of  Blucher,  the  greatest 
military  favourite  of  the  Prussians  since  their  great 
king.  They  seldom  give  him  any  other  name  than 
"  Marshal  Forward,"  and  love  to  place  him  and  Gnei- 
senau  in  the  same  relation  to  each  other  in  which  the 
Romans  set  Marcellus  and  Fabius.  Between  them, 
they  nobly  retrieved  the  ignominy  of  Jena. 

From  the  portal  you  enter  at  once  the  most  splen- 
did street  in  Germany.  It  runs  due  east  and  west,  for 
about  three  quarters  of  a  mile,  from  the  Brandenburgh 
Gate,  which  closes  the  perspective  at  one  extremity, 
to  the  royal  palace,  which  terminates  it  at  the  other. 
It  is  divided,  in  fact,  into  five  parallel  walks,  by  double 
rows  of  lime  trees  and  horse  chesnuts,  and  from  the 
predominance  of  the  former  it  has  its  name,  Unter  den 
Linden.  The  central  alley,  the  most  spacious  and 
convenient  of  all,  is  appropriated  to  pedestrians ;  the 
four  others  are  common  to  all  the  w^orld,  but  carriages 
generally  confine  themselves  to  the  outermost  on  each 
side,  formed  by  the  last  row  of  trees  and  the  houses. 
Many  of  the  buildings  which  line  the  sides  of  this  mix- 
ture of  town  and  country,  though  unambitious  in  point 
of  ornament,  are  ample  and  imposing,  the  abodes  of 
courtly  and  diplomatic  pomp,  of  an  expensive  hotel,  or 
a  restaurateur  celebrated  for  his  kitchen. 

Unter  den  Linden  is  the  scene  of  all  the  bustle  of 
Berlin,  but  not  the  bustle  of  business ;  if  there  be  any 
of  that,  it  is  confined  to  the  old,  or  eastern  part  of  the 
city ;  it  is  the  bustle   of  idle  persons"  amusing  and  en- 


THE  CITY.  249 

joying  themselves,  and  of  lovely  women  seeking  admi- 
ration. During  the  greater  part  of  the  day,  especially 
on  Sunday,  it  is  filled  with  crowds  of  well  dressed, 
comfortable  looking  people,  streaming  meriily  along  in 
both  directions,  or,  with  an  ice  in  their  hands,  laughing 
at  the  heat,  on  the  benches  which  are  ranged  along 
beneath  the  shade  of  the  lime  trees.  Now  and  then, 
the  kifig  comes  lounging  up  the  alley,  attended,  if  at- 
tended at  all,  by  a  single  servant,  in  a  very  sober  live- 
ry, his  hands  behind  his  back,  and  his  eyes  commonly 
turned  towards  the  ground,  enjoying  the  shade  with  as 
much  plain  heartiness  as  the  meanest  of  his  subjects. 
The  loungers  rise  from  their  benches  as  he  passes  ;  the 
gentlemen  take  olf  their  hats;  the  ladies  make  their 
best  curtsey  ;  the  Sfrassenjungen^  a  class  for  whom  Fre- 
derick enlertained  greater  respect  than  for  an  Austrian 
army,  do  all  they  can  to  make  a  bow.  The  king  has 
a  nod  or  a  smile  for  every  body,  and  passes  on  in  the 
well  grounded  assurance,  that  every  one  he  sees  would 
shed  his  blood  for  him  to-morrow.  Royalty,  in  Ger- 
many, from  the  Emperor  of  Austria  down  to  the 
Prince  of  Nassau,  is  accustomed  to  appear  among  its 
subjects  with  much  less  of  majesty  and  reserve  about  it 
than  is  common  among  ourselves.  What  a  bustle 
would  be  created  if  our  King  should  take  a  walk,  some 
forenoon,  from  Carlton  House  to  the  Bank,  accompani- 
ed bv  a  solitary  and  panting  beef-eater!  The  Germans 
would  find  nothing  remarkable  in  it ;  our  political 
clubs  would  vote,  that  the  Bank  was  insolvent,  and 
that  his  Majesty  had  been  attending  a  meeting  of  cre- 
ditors. 

Except  the  Linden,  and  one  or  two  portions  of  the 
city  to  the  north  of  the  Linden,  all  on  the  west  of  the 
Spree,  being  abandoned  to  the  fashionable  world,  is 
regular  and  dull.  The  buildings  are  not,  properly 
speaking,  monotonous;  for,  though  the  streets  were 
laid  out,  the  houses  were  not  built,  on  any  regular  plan  ; 
but  there  is  no  life  in  these  long,  straight,  stone  alleys. 
32 


250  BEHLIN. 

some  of  them  a  mile  in  length,  piercing  the  city,  from 
one  ^atc  to  the  other.  It  is  perpetually  the  same 
thirjg,  with  nothing  either  in  the  dead  or  hving  objects 
which  can  attract  attention  for  an  instant.  Nothing  in 
pedestrian  exercise  is  so  deph)rable  as  walking  the 
streets  in  this  part  of  Berlin.  You  are  in  no  danger, 
as  you  are  in  P. iris  and  Vienna,  ol  being  ridden  over; 
for  each  side  of  every  street,  either  somewhat  elevat- 
ed above  the  centre,  or  separated  from  it  by  a  kennel, 
is  set  apart  for  the  humble  foot-walker;  but  these  pie- 
tended  pavements  are  merely  the  worst  of  all  cause- 
ways, f.^rmed  of  so  many  small,  rough,  sharp  pieces, 
that  walking,  with  the  thermometer  at  80^,  is  exqui- 
sitely paint ul.  The  Wilhelmstrasse^  full  ol"  palaces, 
and  inhabited,  at  least  in  that  part  of  it  nearest  the 
Linden,  only  by  people  of  fashion,  is  the  most  intolera- 
bly paved  street  in  the  city. 

Sand  is  bad  ;  but,  to  get  off  one  of  these  trottoirspa- 
Ves  into  the  desert  of  a  square,  is  a  deliverance  to\^lllch 
alone  I  can  ascribe  it,  that  the  squares  of  Berlin  have 
been  praised  so  much  above  their  merits.  Some  of 
them  are  s|)Rcious  in  extent,  and  surrounded  b^  hand- 
some buildings;  but  the  want  ol"  all  ornament  reduces 
them  to  mere  vacant  areas.  They  are  generally  only 
a  dead  surface  of  loose  parched  sand,  without  pave- 
ment, turf,  or  shrubbery,  and  the  only  decoration  of 
which  they  can  ever  boast  is  a  row  of  stunted  trees. 
WUhelmsplatz^  the  finest  of  them  all,  the  abode  only  of 
princes  and  peers,  plunges  you  at  once  ancle  deep  in 
sand.  It  is  the  legitimate  offspring  of  the  road  between 
Hanover  and  Brunswick  ;  you  may  see  royal  coachmen 
urging  their  steeds  across  the  one  with  as  much  anxie- 
ty as  your  own  postilion  encouraged  his  sorry  nags  along 
the  other. 

The  stagnating  water  is  another  source  of  discom- 
fort, cind  is  most  troublesome  precisely  in  the  most  fa- 
shionable parts  of  the  city.  Though  the  Spree  tra- 
verses  Berlin,  dividing  it  into  two  nearly  equal    parts. 


THE  CITY.  251 

the  site,  especially  on  the  left  bank,  where  the  more 
modern  and  gaudy  portion  of  the  city  stands,  is  so  dead 
a  flat  in  itself,  and  is  so  little  ele\alcd  above  the  level 
of  the  river,  that,  even  in  the  Wilhelnistrasse,  and  on 
the  Wilhelnisplalz,  in  frorjt  of  magnificent  palaces,  the 
water  overflows  the  ker)nel,  and  spreads  itsell"  back 
over  the  pavement,  under  a  heat  which  produces  cor- 
ruption after  a  few  hours  stagnation. 

Though  the  older  and  less  fashionable  part  of  the 
city,  standing  on  the  right  bank  of  the  Sj>ree,  has  no 
such  spacious  and  reojular  streets,  nor,  exccptinof  the 
palace,  which  is  \n  its  outskirts,  many  imposing  edilices, 
it  presents  a  more  lively  and  industrious  appeal aiice. 
In  no  great  ca[)ital  is  a  Britain  so  struck  with  the  ab- 
sence of  those  splendid  and  seductive  shops  which  fix 
the  eye,  and  undo  the  purse,  in  London,  Paris,  or  Vi- 
enna. The  Spree  itself,  which  separates  the  two  parts 
of  the  town,  bears  the  only  character  which  a  small 
river  can  bear  in  so  large  a  city,  that  of  a  broad,  deep, 
muddy  ditch.  It  has  some  dignity  only  where  it  sweeps 
boldly  round  the  huge  pile  of  the  palace.  It  is  inva- 
luable, however,  to  the  inhabitants,  both  as  a  means  of 
cleanliness  and  a  vehicle  of  commerce.  To  the  east- 
ward, about  fifty  miles  nearer  its  source,  it  communi- 
cates with  the  Oder  by  a  canal,  and  thus  brings  down 
to  Berlin  the  minerals  of  Upper  Silesia,  and  the  corn 
and  manufactures  of  Middle  and  Lower  Silesia.  The 
craft,  again,  which  follow  its  stream  to  the  westward, 
are  carried  by  it  into  the  Havel,  six  miles  from  Berlin, 
under  the  fortifications  of  Spandau  ;  the  Havel  bears 
them  into  the  Elbe,  and,  on  the  Elbe,  they  descend  to 
Hunburgh.  The  vessels  which  crowd  the  quavs  of 
B'jrlin  are  long,  narrow,  flat-bottomed,  uncouth-loc  king 
things,  but  perfectly  well  suited  for  this  sort  of  naviga- 
tion. The  minister  of  a  certain  northern  court  threw 
all  the  ship-wrights  of  Berlin  into  consternation,  by 
making  one  of  them  build  a  pleasure  boat  with  a  keel. 
When  he  used   to  go   out  in  it  on  the    river,   carrying 


25£  BERLIN. 

sail,  the  shores  were  lined  with  astonished  spectators* 
A  royal  prince  was  one  day  on  board,  and  became  so 
alarmed  at  the  gentle  heeling  of  the  boat,  under  a  mo- 
derate breeze,  that  he  insisted  on  being  set  on  shore. 

Altogether,  the  Prussians,  though  possessing  no  mean 
extent  of  sea-coast,  frequently  display  strange  instances 
of  geographical  ignorance.  A  well-known  geographer 
of  Berlin,  having  read  that  one  of  our  navigators  had 
found  an  ice  island  in  a  considerably  more  southern  la- 
titude than  these  frozen  masses  usually  frequent,  set  it 
down  in  his  book  as  the  latitude  of  Iceland.  A  Berlin 
newspaper,  in  an  account  of  thediscoveries  which  were 
made  during  the  first  of  our  late  voyages  to  ascertain 
the  existence  of  a  North- West  Passage,  gave  to  Mel- 
ville Island  the  latitude  of  Captain  Flinders'  Melville 
Island  on  the  coast  of  New  Holland,  placing  it  near  the 
E  juator  instead  of  near  the  Pole.  The  blunder  was 
no  i[ied  to  the  editor,  and  the  next  number  contained 
an  "  Erratum  in  our  last. — Fur  Melville  Island  In  such 
and  such  a  latitude,  read  Melville  Island  in  this  other 
latitude,  (giving  the  true  northern  latitude,)  ivhich  is 
not  to  be  confounded  with  JMelville  Island  in  this  latitude, 
(giving  the  blundered  one  ;)  a  line  was  omitted  through 
the  carelessness  of  the  compositor."  A  much  better 
practical  joke  was  played  oif  upon  their  Ignorance  by 
the  same  minister  who  insisted  on  having  a  boat  with 
a  keel.  The  Linden  runs  east  and  west;  therefore, 
in  the  latitude  of  Berlin,  the  houses  on  the  north  side 
of  the  street  are  in  the  sun,  and  those  on  the  south 
side  in  the  shade.  The  palace  is  to  the  east  of  the 
Linden.  But  the  court-chamberlain,  in  issuing  direc- 
tions for  a  funeral,  took  it  into  his  head,  from  some  in- 
distinct notion  that  southern  climates  are  always  warm 
climates,  that  the  sunny  side  of  the  Linden  must  be 
the  south  side  ;  and,  in  his  circular  to  the  elevated  per- 
sons who  were  to  attend,  he  actually  inverted  the  two 
S'des  of  the  street.  This  northern  minister,  having  no 
wish  to   attend   the  ceremony,  and  having  a  house   on 


ARCHITECTURE.  25S 

the  north  sidfe  of  the  Linden,  took  advantage  of  the 
blunder,  and  went  to  the  country.  Next  day,  th.e  sole 
topic  of  conversation  in  tfu;  circles  of  BerHn  was,  Wliat 
can  be  the  meanlno-  of  the  absence  of  the  minis- 
ter? His  Excellency,  who  had  foreseen  this,  immedi- 
ately sent  in  a  laughing,  half-ofFicial  sort  of  note,  stat- 
ing, that  he  had  always  "  believed  his  house  to  be  on 
the  north  side  of  the  Linden,  and  tliat,  therefore,  as 
tlie  palace  was  to  the  east  of  him,  when  he  wished  to 
go  to  it,  he  was  in  the  habit  of  ordering  his  coachman, 
on  issuing  from  the  gateway,  to  drive  lo  the  left.  But, 
having  learned  from  the  court  circular,  that  his  house 
was  on  the  south  side  of  the  street,  and  that,  there- 
fore, to  get  to  the  palace,  he  must  take  an  opposite  di- 
rection from  tliat  which  he  usually  took,  he  had  order- 
ed his  coachman,  on  this  occasion,  to  turn  to  the  right; 
the  consequence  of  which  was,  tha  ,  after  an  hour's 
driving,  instead  of  finding  himself  at  the  palace,  he 
found  himself  at  the  gates  of  Spandau." 

Between  tfie  Brandenburgh  gate  an(]  the  palace  are 
crowded  togfether  nearly  all  the  line  edifices  of  Berlin. 
The  guard,  the  university,  the  arsenal,  the  opera-house, 
the  new  theatre,  the  palace,  with  its  church,  are  all  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  each  otiier.  The  palace  has  no- 
thing to  reconmiend  it  but  its  huge  size,  and  the  splen- 
dour of  its  furniture.  Except  the  plain,  simple  apart- 
ment of  Frederick  himself,  it  is  as  gorgeous  as  royalty 
could  make  it;  but,  in  general,  to  describe  the  inside 
of  a  palace,  is  nothmg  better  than  to  describe  an  up 
holsterer's  sho[).  It  is  not,  however,  the  regular  resi- 
dence of  the  present  king;  he  lives  in  a  much  more 
modest  looking  h(  use  in  the  Linden.  T\)e  arsenal, 
though  it  has  rieither  porticoes  nor  pillars,  is  the  finest 
building  in  Berlin  ;  the  extent  and  sim[;hcity  of  its 
fronts  are  niajestic,  and  its  military  tropfiles  and  em- 
blematical groupes  display  a  great  deal  of  good  work- 
manship. 


254  BERLIN. 

In  the  public  architecture  of  Berlin,  there  is  a  tire- 
some degree  of  uniformity,  arising  from  a  too  frequent 
repetition  of  the  same  forms  and  combinations;  it  is 
easily  seen  that  it  has  sprung  up,  in  a  great  measure,  in 
the  lump,  on  one  wholesale  plan.  The  general  style 
is  an  Ionic  portico,  placed  before  a  very  plain  front. 
Sometimes  three  out  of  the  four  sides  are  garnished 
with  this  appendac^e,  but  the  pillars  never  extend  along 
the  whole  front,  or  are  carried  entirely  round  the  build- 
ing. What  may  be  called  the  ground  floor,  generally 
formed  of  rustic  work,  projects,  and  on  this  is  raised 
the  portico.  The  elfect  is  not  so  pleasing  or  imposing 
to  the  eye,  as  when  the  pillars  clothe  the  whole,  or 
nearly  the  whole  front  of  the  building ;  and,  even  if 
the  style  possessed  more  merit  than  it  really  does,  it 
looks  like  poverty  of  invention  to  have  so  much  of  it, 
and  so  little  of  any  thing  else.  Potsdam  and  Berlin 
are  full  of  it ;  but  the  uniformity  is  more  striking  in  the 
latter,  from  the  proximity  of  the  buildings.  Thus,  on 
the  Place  des  Gens  d'^J^rmes,  stand  the  opera-house,  the 
theatre,  and  two  gorgeous  churches,  all  in  the  same 
fashion;  the  university,  too,  is  nearly    the  same  thing. 

The  new  theatre  was  to  eclipse  all  the  other  pro- 
ductions of  Prussian  architectural  taste,  and  tower 
above  the  less  gaudy,  but  much  more  majestic  opera- 
house  of  Fred-?  lick.  The  Ionic  portico  itself  is  a  beau- 
tiful object ;  but  it  is  difficult  to  conceive  how  the  same 
architect  who  reared  it,  could  have  crowded  into  the 
body  of  the  edifice  almost  every  fault  which  such  a 
building  can  possess,  did  we  not  know,  that  it  is  much 
easier  to  follow  known  rules  and  fixed  proportions  in 
raising  pillars,  than  to  combine  a  graceful  and  dignifif;d 
whole.  Ah  >ve  all,  the  unlucky  thought  of  carrying 
up  the  main  bodv  of  the  building  so  far  above  the  pe- 
diment of  the  portico,  and  terminating  it,  at  the  same 
time,  with  a  pediment  of  its  own,  has  destroyed  all 
grace  and  symmetry,  and  offends  the  eye  mortally. 
Modern  extravagance  in  windows  often  stands  in    the 


MUSIC.  &S5 

way  of  architectural  beauty  ;  but  in  what  edifice  can  it 
interfere  less  than  In  a  theatre?  Yet  this  building  is 
so  sht  in  every  drrction  by  narrow,  insignificant  win- 
dows, that  the  American  was  quite  justifiable,  who  ex- 
claimed, on  fiist  seeing  it,  "  What  a  huge  hot-house 
the  king  has  got  !"  Neither  the  king  nor  his  subjects 
are  satisfied  with  this  monument  of  native  genius;  but 
there  it  stands,  and  the  money  has  been  spent. 

The  dramatic  troop  is  much  less  delective  than  the 
building  in  which  they  perform.  While  lifland,  the 
Garrick  of  Germany,  was  manager,  the  Berlin  theatre 
had  no  rival  except  that  of  Weimar.  In  some  depart- 
ments of  comedy,  it  is  now  inferior  to  Vienna,  and,  in 
tragedy,  is  at  least  not  superior.  Madame  Stich  of 
Berlin  counterbalances  Madame  Schroder  and  Madame 
Lowe  of  Vienna.  She  is  not  so  overpowering  as  the 
former  of  these  ladles  in  the  expression  of  strong  pas- 
sion— she  could  not  plaj  Lady  Macbeth  so  well  ;  nei- 
ther does  she  possess  the  bame  melting  power  of  ten- 
derness that  distingulslies  the  latter;  but  she  has  a 
truer  conception  of  character,  though  her  acting  some- 
times falls  short  of  her  Idea,  and  a  more  chaste  and 
sustained  style  of  representation  than  either  of  them. 
Siie  is  the  only  actress  whom  I  ever  saw  give  any  thing 
like  a  good  performance  of  Schiller'b  Maid  of  Orleans. 
Joanna  Is  the  touchstone  of  German  actresses;  they 
perpetually  convert  her  into  an  ordinary,  ranting,  de- 
clamatory heroine  just  the  reverse  of  the  poet's  Joanna, 
and  fail  to  hit  that  deep,  solemn,  supernatural  feeling, 
which  separates   her  from    ordinary  tragic  personages. 

Operas  are  got  up,  In  Berlin,  with  an  extravagant 
expefidlture  on  pomp  of  decoration  and  splendour  of 
costume.  But  the  taste  of  the  public  is  not  pure  ;  they 
have  not  that  natural  feeling  of  the  eloquence  of 
"  sweet  sounds"  which  distinguishes  the  Italian  and 
Bohemian,  and  they  have  not  passed  thronorh  that  train- 
ing under  the  hands  of  great  masters  which  has  form- 
ed the  accurate,   though  somewhat  artificial  taste,  of 


£56  BERLIN. 

Dresden  and  Vienna.  Their  opera  is  under  the  di- 
rection of  Spontini,  whose  operas  are,  in  general,  as 
much  for  the  eye  as  for  the  ear.  The  whoh^  city  was 
on  tiptoe  expectation  lor  the  production  of  .his  regene- 
rated Oljmjjia,  whicli  had  forinerlj  failed  in  some  othet 
capitals.  Twentj-five  thousand  rix-doliars  (nearly 
L.  ^000)  had  been  ex[)ended  on  the  decorations;  five 
hundred  pounds  of  tlie  sum  had  been  laid  out  in  creat- 
ing an  elephant,  destined  to  make  a  principal  figure  in 
the  performance.  Tnough  some  left  the  house,  un- 
able to  endure  the  incessant  thundering  of  the  orche- 
stra, and  Professor  W declared   it    to   be  just   as 

pleasant  as  dining  on  Cayenne  pepper,  the  great  body 
of  the  audience  seemed  to  be  perfectly  satisfied  at  ha- 
ving their  ears  so  stunned,  and  their  eyes  so  dazzled. 
Tiie  appearance  of  the  elephant,  moved  along  by  a  lit- 
tle boy  in  each  leg,  was  hailed  with  a  shout  which 
mi^jlit  have  waKened  Frederick  in  fr;nvnsfrom  his  grave 
at  Potsdam,  at  the  corrupted  taste  of  his  descendants. 
Every  week,  two  or  three  concerts  are  given,  under 
the  royal  authority,  in  the  music  hall  of  the  new  thea- 
tre, an  apartment  of  such  fair  proportions,  with  so 
much  elegance,  yet  chasteness  and  simplicity  in  its  de- 
corations, that  it  would'^leave  the  eye  nothing  to  desire, 
were  it  not  for  the  unseemly  pigeon  holes  which,  un^ 
der  the  name  of  boxes  for  the  royal  family,  disfigure 
one  side  of  the  room,  and  break  the  unity  of  the  whole. 
Every  entertainment  of  this  sort  consists  partly  in  a 
mixture  of  elocution  and  instrumental  music,  which  is 
of  very  questionable  merit,  and  almost  peculiar  to  Ger- 
many. A  favourite  ballad,  for  instance,  of  Schiller, 
Biirger,  or  G  »the,  is  delivered  by  a  reciter,  just  as  any 
other  elocutionist  would  read  it ;  but  it  is  accompanied, 
either  in  a  continued  strain,  <>r  only  by  fits  and  starts, 
as  the  composer  thinks  proper,  by  instrumental  music, 
which  is,  or  pretends  to  be,  characteristic  of  the  senti- 
ment that  pePviades  the  particular  verses,  or  represen- 
tative of  what  they  ha|§»n  to  describe.     For  example, 


MUSIC.  257^ 

were  the  elocutionist  reading  Chevy  Chase,  at  the  very 
outset,  "  God  prosper  long  our  noble  king,"  his  voice 
would  probably  be  drowned  in  the  jubilee  of  the  or- 
chestra, and  would  forthwith  be  heard  again,  as  the  in- 
struments softly  bewailed  that, 

A  woeful  hunting  once  there  did 
In  Chevy  Chace  befall; 

unless  the  French  horn  were  made  to  render  him  in- 
audible, for  the  purpose  of  suggesting  woodland  associa- 
tions, and  the  idea  of  a  "  hunting."  Among  other 
things,  I  heard  Schiller's  Gang  nach  dem  Etsenhammer, 
a  beautiful  ballad,  out  of  which  Holbein  has  manufac- 
tured a  very  poor,  prosing,  tiresome  drama,  recited  in 
this  way,  and  the  enect  was  not  fitted  to  make  one  par- 
tial to  this  mode  of  marrying  music  to  immortal  verse. 
The  whole  system  forgets  the  specific  difference  be- 
tween reading  and  singing.  The  reader  stands  in  quite 
a  different  relation  to  a  musical  accompaniment  from 
the  opera  singer.  Though  readers  speak  of  musical, 
melodious,  or  harmonious  elocution,  reading  is  not  sing- 
ing, in  any  accurate  sense  of  the  words.  In  any  given 
song,  there  is  only  one  way  of  reading  it  well  ;  but 
more  than  one  melody  may  be  composed  for  it,  all 
equally  good.  A  union  of  ordinary  elocution  with  in- 
strumental music  does  not  seem  to  be  less  incongruous 
of  confused  than  if  one  person  were  to  recite  a  ballad 
while  another  simultaneously  sung  it. 

The  great  men  of  Prussia  have  been  principally 
kings  and  warriors,  and  she  cannot  be  accused  of  what 
is  the  disgrace  of  Austria,  public  ingratitude  to  their 
memories.  If  Frederick  laughed  at  German  poets,  he 
entertained  a  profound  respect  for  German  soldiers; 
his  gratitude,  and  the  public  spirit  roused  by  the  events 
of  late  years,  have  called  forth  the  long  line  of  Prus- 
sian heroes,  in  marble  or  in  bronze,  on  the  streets, 
squares,  and  bridges  of  Berlin.  A  s|i>ited,  though 
somewhat  clumsy  equestrian  sinful  of  the  great  Elec- 
33 


% 


258  BERLIN. 

mr  adorns  the  principal  bridi^^e  across  the  Spree ; 
Prince  Henry  of  Prussia  defends  the  shady  garden 
which  borders  the  river  below  the  brid<res  ;  the  Prince 
of  x\nhalt-Dessau  displays  his  old-fashioned  uniform  in 
front  of  the  palace;  the  Wilhelmsplatz  bears  the 
great  worthies  of  the  Seven  Years'  War,  Ziethen, 
Keith,  Seidlitz,  Schwerin,  and  Winterfield,  and  the 
last  moments  of  three  of  them  who  fell  in  battle  are 
preserved,  in  the  church  of  the  garrison,  in  glaring  and 
literal  pictures.  Blucher,  Billow,  and  Gneisenau,  the 
heroes  of  a  war  no  less  honourable  to  the  national 
feeling  and  devotedness  of  Prussia,  than  that  which 
Frederick  waged  against  the  half  of  Europe,  will,  by 
this  time,  have  been  publicly  added  to  their  worthy 
predecessors.  I  saw  the  two  latter,  scarcely  finished, 
in  Ranch's  workshop ;  they  are  both  excellent  statues 
— perhaps  a  little  too  true,  but  simple  and  dignified, 
and  free  from  all  frippery  and  trifling.  Ranch  has 
improved  on  his  predecessors  in  the  drapery  of  his 
figures  niore  than  in  any  thing  else.  The  fidelity  with 
which  the  heroes  of  the  Seven  Years'  War  are  wrapt 
up  in  a  uniform,  with  all  its  multifarious  trappings, 
leaves  the  sculptor  room  for  no  other  merit  in  his  dra- 
pery than  that  of  representing  correctly  in  marble 
what  already  existed  in  cloth  and  gold  lace.  The  best 
statue  in  Berlin  is  the  portrait  statue  of  the  late  Queen 
of  Prussia,  on  her  tomb  in  the  gardens  of  Charlotten- 
burg;  it  entitles  Rauch  to  rank  among  the  first  sculp- 
tors of  Germany. 

The  Prussian  artists  did  not  long  retain  the  ancient 
models  which  Frederick  procured  for  them  by  pur- 
chasing the  collection  of  Cardinal  Polignac.  When, 
in  the  Seven  Years'  War,  the  united  hosts  of  Russia, 
Austria,  and  Saxony,  ventured  to  march  to  Berlin, 
while  the  king  was  facing  other  enemies  in  another 
province,  the  Saxons,  who  took  possession  of  Charlot- 
tenburg,  in  re¥enge  for  the  bombardment  of  Dresden, 
a  measure  altogether  in   the   ordinary  course   of  war. 


SCULPTURE.  259 

broke  the  statues  in  pieces,  and  continued  pounding  the 
very  Hmbs  into  powder,  till  the  terrific  intelhgence,  that 
Frederick,  with  his  httic  army,  was  in  lull  march  from 
Silesia,  left  Austrians,  Russians,  and  Saxons,  no  other 
object  of*  emulation  except  who  should  most  readily  get 
out  of  his  way.  This  was  but  a  bad  return  for  the  re- 
verence with  which  Frederick  had  treated  the  gallery 
of  Dresden.  When  he  saw  the  barbarity  with  which 
they  had  destroyed  his  statues,  he  clenched" liis  fist,  and 
stamped  the  ground  in  indignation;  "The  monsters! 
but  how  could  they  know  the  value  of  such  things! 
"  we  must  forgive  them ;"  and  he  displayed  his  for- 
giveness by  forthwith  plundering  an#burning  Huberts- 
burg,  the  most  splendid  of  the  country  residences  of 
the  Elector  of  Saxony. 

On  a  sandy  hillock,  about  half  a  mile  beyond  the 
walls,  stands  the  Folks-Denkmal,  or  Monument  of  the 
People.  It  was  erected  by  the  present  king,  and,  with 
much  pomp,  dedicated  by  him  to  his  people,  to  com- 
memorate their  exertions  in  the  triumphant  campaigns 
Avhich  terminated  the  war.  It  is  a  lofty  Gothic  taber- 
nacle, or  rather  a  concretion  of  such  tabernacles,  pier- 
ced with  niches,  and  bristled  with  pinnacles.  Four  of 
them  are  set  against  each  other,  and  as  they  are  square, 
each  presents  three  sides.  In  the  twelve  sides  thus 
formed  are  as  many  niches  ;  each  niche  is  appropriated 
to  a  battle,  and  contains  a  statue  intended  to  be  em- 
blematical of  the  combat,  or  representing  some  person 
who  distinguished  himself  in  it.  The  complement  of 
statues  has  not  yet  been  made  up.  That  in  the  niche 
set  apart  for  Grossbeeren  represents  a  Prussian  Layid- 
loehrmann,  or  militia-man,  because  the  day  w^as  won  by 
the  good  conduct  of  the  militia ;  the  countenance 
struck  me  as  being  a  portrait  of  the  Prince  Royal. 
The  niche  of  the  Katzbach  is  filled  with  Bliicher,  and 
that  of  Leipzig,  a  better  kno^^n  battle,  with  a  less 
known  warrior.  Prince  Henry  of  Prussia.  The  statues 
were  modelled  partly  by  Ranch,  partly  by  Tieck,  and 


# 


t 


260  BERLIN. 

the  artists  have  done  all  that  could  be  expected  under 
so  discouraging  a  similarity  of  subject.  The  want  of 
simplicity  and  dignity,  the  multiplicity  and  littleness  of 
parts,  are  the  great  objections  to  the  whole  ;  it  has  too 
much  of  the  toyshop,  especially  as,  in  the  desolate 
sands  which  surround  it,  there  is  nothing  to  accord  with 
the  Gothic  plaything.  Why  was  this  popular  monu- 
ment, erected  by  a  king,  and  dedicated  to  a  nation,  to 
preserve  the  daily  memory  of  such  men  and  such  deeds, 
thrown  outside  of  the  walls,  into  so  dreary  a  wilder- 
ness, which  nobody  Vt^ould  ever  think  of  traversing,  ex- 
cept to  see  the  monument  itself?  When  a  Roman  em- 
peror wished  to  record  his  military  exploits  in  the  eyes 
of  the  people,  he  built  his  triumphal  arcij  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  the  Forum,  or  raised  his  sculptured  pillar 
in  a  public  square. 

The  monument,  with  its  tabernacles  and  statues, 
consists  entirely  of  cast-iron,  in  the  manufacture  of 
which  the  Prussians  have  arrived  at  great  perfection. 
The  iron  is  principally  obtained  from  the  mines  of 
Tarnowitz,  in  Upper  Silesia;  and  the  expense  of  trans- 
porting it  is  greatly  lessened  by  a  canal  which,  leaving 
the  Oder  immediately  above  Frankfort,  connects  that 
river  with  the  Spree,  coming  down  from  the  Lausitz 
towards  Berlin.  The  foundery  itself  is' in  Berlin,  and 
supplies  cast-iron  monuments  to  all  Germany.  They 
even  make,  in  relief,  copies  of  celebrated  pictures:  I 
saw  the  Last  Supper  of  Da  Vinci  cast  in  a  space  of 
about  six  inches  by  four,  with  a  neatness  and  precision 
which  could  not  have  been  expected  from  such  mate- 
rials, and  on  so  small  a  scale.  Larger  busts  are  ex- 
cellently well  done ;  the  favourite  ones  are  those  of 
the  late  Queen  and  Blucher,  for  every  Prussian  will 
sacrifice  a  great  deal  to  possess  a  memorial  of  either 
the  one  or  the  other.  During  the  war,  the  church 
bells  of  a  great  number  of  villages  were  melted  down 
into  cannon;  and  the  king  is  now  melting  down  iron 
cannon  to  give  the  churches  cast-iron  bells.     The  dif- 


THE  THIERGARTEN.  261 

ference,   in   point    of  expense,  is  enormous,   and    they 
sound  just  as  well  as   most  oi*  our  own  country  bells. 
The  director  seemed  to  entertain  little  doubt,  that,  in 
a  few  years,  the  Prussians  would  leave  all  Europe,  ex- 
cept  ourselves,  far  behind   them    in  ornamental    iron- 
work.    He    had    been   sent  over   to  examine   all    the 
great   iron   establishments   of  England   and    Scotland  ; 
and,  hanging  over  an  English  grate,  of  hammered  iron, 
which  he   pronounced    to   be   inimitable,  and  allowed 
could  not  yet  be  made  in  Prussia,  he  spoke  of  the  per- 
fection which    he    believed    us  to   have   attained   in  a 
strain   of  enthusiastic   eulogy    altogether    professional. 
It  was  honest;   and  this  willingness  to  learn  is  the  first 
thing  to  produce  the  capacity  of  teaching.     A  French- 
man would  have  found  out,  either  that  we  knew  noth- 
ing about  the  matter,   or  that  all   we  did  know    which 
"was  worth   knowino^  had   been  derived  from  his  coun- 
trymen.     The   directors  of  the  Berlin  foundery   even 
ventured    to   make  a  steam-engine,  for   the  purpose  of 
blowing:   their    bellows.     Thoug^h    thev   succeeded   in 
constructing  one  which  works,  it  cost  them,   they  say, 
more   money   than  if  they   had    ordered   it   from    this 
country.     Yet  they    were  much    more  successful    than 
the    directors  of  the   iron   mines   at   Tarnowitz,   who, 
having:  grot  an  en2:ine   from  En<rland,   could  not    put  it 
together  so  as  to  make  it  work.     It  refused   to  make 
a  single  stroke,  till  a  workman  was  brought  out  to  cor- 
rect their  blunders.      It  is   said  that   they  displayed  a 
rather  forcible  desire  to  retain  the    Birmingham  wan- 
derer, and   that   he,  at  last,  made  his  escape  only  by 
stealth. 

At  first  it  might  excite  wonder  why  so  sandy  and 
dreary  a  soil  should  have  been  selected  for  the  capital 
of  Prussia,  in  preferenee  to  the  more  pleasing  and  fer- 
tile banks  of  the  Havel  ;  but  it  is  fortunate  that  it  is 
so;  for  the  neighbourhood  of  a  capital  of  nearly 
200,000  inhabitants,  by  creating  a  thousand  wants,  and 
recompensing  the  industry    which  supplied   them,  has 


# 


262  BERLIN. 

peopled  and  cultivated  a  district  which  might  other- 
wise have  remained  nearly  useless  to  the  monarchy. 
Neither  labour  nor  money  tias  been  spared  to  convert 
these  parched  levels  even  into  something  which  apes 
park  and  forest,  by  planting  trees,  and  making  straight 
walks  among  them.  The  citizens  of  Berlin  believe 
that  nothing  of  this  sort  can  be  finer  than  their  Thier- 
garten,  an  extensive  plantation,  in  which  there  are  too 
many  firs.  It  commences  outside  of  the  Branden- 
burg Gate  ;  here  there  are  no  suburbs  ;  from  between 
the  Doric  columns  of  the  portal,  you  at  once  enter  the 
wood,  where  carriages  and  pedestrians  toil  along  in 
the  same  deep  sand,  for  the  walks  are  not  even  gra- 
velled. A  line  of  small  but  handsome  villas,  in  which 
the  higher  class  of  citizens  seek  refuge  in  summer, 
from  the  sultry  heat  of  the  city,  stretches  along  its 
southern  boundary  ;  on  the  north  it  is  bounded  by  the 
Spree,  and  the  portion  of  it  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  the  river  is  the  Vauxhall  of  Berlin.  The  bank  is 
lined  with  coffee-houses;  rustic  benches  and  tables  are 
fixed  beneath  the  shade  of  umbrageous  limes  and 
elms  ;  beer,  coffee,  and  tobacco,  are  tlie  sources  of  en- 
joyment ;  crowds  of  pipes,  ready  to  be  stopped,  are 
piled  up  like  stands  of  arms.  Numerous  itinerant  ven- 
ders wander  from  room  to  room,  and  tree  to  tree,  dis- 
playing seductive  layers  of  segars,  from  the  genuine 
Havannah,  down  to  the  homely  Hanoverian  or  Bava- 
rian. As  evening  comes  on,  and  the  boats  return  up 
the  river,  with  the  parties  which  have  been  enjoying 
Charlottenburg,  if  the  weather  does  not  drive  the 
happy  crowd  within  doors,  numerous  lamps  are  hung 
up  among  the  trees.  The  clouds  of  smoke  aid  the 
dimness  of  twilight,  and  both  united  render  the  shady 
recesses  of  the  wood  fit  scenes  of  intrigue  and  assigna- 
tion. 

The  same  general  character  belongs  to  the  grounds 
of  Charlottenburg,  a  royal  residence,  about  two  miles 
from  the  city,  the   palace  in  which  Frederick  deposit- 


THE  QUEEN.  263 

ed  his  treasures  of  sculpture,  and,  from  associations 
still  more  interesting,  the  favourite  residence  of  the 
present  king.  The  palace  has  no  other  merit  than  its 
size.  The  grounds  are  better  laid  out  than  the  Tfiier- 
garten,  and  are  the  great  resort  of  the  Sunday  strol- 
lers from  Berlin.  The  adjacent  village  consists  al- 
most entirely  of  coffee-houses;  and  there  is  a  small 
theatre,  to  which  a  detachment  from  the  city  troop  is 
marched  up  on  Sunday  evening.  Advantage  has  been 
very  skilfully  taken  of  the  Spree,  which  bounds  the 
grounds,  to  introduce  various  pieces  of  water,  and  call 
forth  a  more  refreshinsr  verdure  than  is  found  in  the 
Thicrgarten.  Beyond  the  river,  the  country  is  entire- 
ly open,  yet  it  is  more  pleasant  than  the  sandy  alleys, 
and  stiffly  marshalled  trees  of  the  grounds  themselves; 
it  is  monotonous,  to  be  sure,  but  it  is  fresh  and  green. 
Though  an  inhabitant  of  the  more  favoured  countries 
of  the  north,  to  say  nothing  of  the  south,  would  not 
perhaps  give  a  second  look  to  the  view,  it  is  perfectly 
natural  that  a  young  tradesman  of  Berlin  should  be- 
lieve that  he  is  revelling  among  the  richest  beauties 
of  nature,  when,  on  a  Sunday  evening,  he  strolls  with 
his  love  through  the  shades  of  Charlottenburg,  and 
treats  her  to  the  pit  of  its  little  theatre. 

In  a  retired  corner  of  the  grounds,  where  no  sound 
can  penetrate  from  the  world  without  to  disturb  the 
repose  to  whicli  the  spot  is  consecrated,  a  small  Doric 
temple  is  seen  lurking  beneath  the  melancholy  shade 
of  cypresses  and  weeping  willows.  It  is  the  tomb  and 
monument  of  the  late  Queen  of  Prussia,  the  fairest 
and  most  amiable,  the  most  interesting  and  most  un- 
fortunate princess  of  her  day.  The  place  is  so  well 
chosen,  and  all  its  accompaniments  are  so  much  in  uni- 
son with  the  sacred  purpose  to  which  it  has  been 
applied,  that  even  the  ignorant  stranger  feels  he  is  ap- 
proaching a  scene  of  tender  and  melancholy  recollec- 
tions. In  the  interior  of  the  temple,  the  walls  are  co- 
vered, to  a  certain  height,  with  marble,  and  the  rest  is 


264  BERLIN. 

painted  in  imitation  of  marble.  Excepting  this,  and 
two  magnificent  candelabras,  formed  after  antique  mo- 
dels, there  is  no  effort  at  splendour  of  decoration.  The 
body  lies  in  a  vault  beneath;  the  back  part  of  the 
floor  of  the  temple,  which  corresponds  to  the  ceiling 
of  the  vault,  is  elevated  above  the  anterior  part ;  and 
on  this  elevation  is  a  full  length  statue  of  Louisa,  re- 
clining:  on  a  sarcouhap-us.  It  is  a  work  of  Ranch.  It 
is  a  portrait  statue,  and  the  likeness  is  allowed  to  be 
perfect ;  the  king  insisted  it  should  be  Louisa ;  he 
would  not  sacrifice  a  single  feature  to  what  the  artist 
might  perhaps  have  reckoned  a  pardonable  embellish- 
ment ;  but  Louisa's  was  a  face  and  a  form  which  few 
artists  could  have  successfully  embellished.  The  ex- 
pression is  not  that  of  dull,  cold  death,  but  of  undis- 
turbed repose.  The  hands  are  modestly  folded  on  the 
breast;  the  attitude  is  easy,  graceful,  and  natural ;  but 
the  partial  crossing  of  the  legs,  and  the  perpendicular 
erection  of  boih  feet,  which  start  up  under  the  shroud 
in  nearly  a  triangular  form,  give  some  stiffness  and 
harshness  to  the  lower  extremity  of  the  figure.  The 
artist  had  no  opportunity  of  displaying  anatomy,  in 
which  so  many  find  the  perfection  of  sculpture.  Only 
the  countenance,  and  part  of  the  neck,  are  bare;  the 
rest  of  the  figure  is  shrouded  in  an  ample,  and  ex- 
tremely well  wrought  drapery.  As  the  management  of 
drapery  is  the  rock  on  which  modern  German  sculp- 
tors, and,  in  fact,  mediocre  sculptors  of  all  times,  and  of 
all  countries,  most  frequently  split,  either  bundling  it  up 
in  heavy  cumbersome  masses,  or  frittering  it  down  into 
numerous  small  parallel  grooves.  Ranch  may  be  the 
prouder  of  having  here  given  his  countrymen  a  very 
good  example  how  it  ought  to  be  done.  The  great  charm 
of  the  statue  is,  the  decent,  simple,  tranquil  air  which 
pervades  the  whole  figure ;  there  is  no  tinge  of  that 
unfortunate  striving  after  effect  which  disfigures  so  ma- 
ny monumental  piles.  I  observed  no  inscription,  no 
pompous  catalogue  of  her  titles,  no  parading  eulogy  of 


THE  QUEEN.  £65 

her  virtues  ;  the  Prussian  eagle  alone,  at  the  foot  of 
the  sarcophagus,  announces  that  she  belonged  to  the 
house  of  HohenzoUern,  and  the  withered  garlands 
which  still  Jiang  above  her,  were  the  first  offering  of 
her  children  at  the  grave  of  their  mother.  The  king 
still  spends  many  of  his  hours  in  this  solitary  tomb, 
which,  however,  breathes  nothing  of  death,  except  its 
repose.  The  key  of  the  vault  in  which  the  body  is 
deposited  is  always  in  his  own  possession  ;  and,  annual- 
ly, on  the  anniversary  of  her  death,  he  gathers  his  chil- 
dren round  him  at  her  grave,  and  a  religious  service  is 
performed  by  the  side  of  her  coffin. 

The  memory  of  Louisa  may  safely  disregard  the 
foul  calumnies  of  French  babblers,  who  lied  and  in- 
vented to  gratify  their  unmanly  master;  if  the  charac- 
ter of  a  woman  and  a  queen  is  to  be  gathered  from  her 
husband,  her  children,  and  her  subjects,  few  of  her 
rank  will  fill  a  more  honourable  place.  She  said  her- 
self, shortly  before  her  death,  "Posterity  will  not  set 
down  my  name  among  those  of  celebrated  women ; 
but  whoever  knows  the  calamities  of  these  times,  will 
say  of  me,  she  suffered  much,  and  she  suffered  with 
constancy.  May  he  be  able  to  add,  she  gave  birth  to 
children  who  deserved  better  days,  who  struggled  to 
bring  them  round,  and  at  length  succeeded."  She  w^as 
not  distinguished  for  talent,  but  she  was  loved  and  re- 
vered for  her  virtues ;  she  had  all  the  qualifications  of 
an  amiable  woman,  of  a  queen  she  had  only  the  feel- 
ings. Every  Prussian  regarded  her,  and  still  speaks 
of  her  with  a  love  approaching  to  adoration.  It  was 
not  merely  her  beauty  or  female  graces,  richly  as  she 
was  endowed  with  them,  that  captivated  her  hus- 
band's people  ;  it  was  her  pure,  mild,  slm[jle,  and  af- 
fectionate character.  They  had  sighed  beneath  the 
extravagant  government  of  mistresses  and  favourites, 
which  disgraced  the  closing  years  of  the  reign  of  the 
preceding  monarch ;  and  they  turned  with  fondness  to 
the  novel  spectacle  of  domestic  happiness  and  proprie- 
.    34 


266  ,  BERLIN. 

ty  which  adorned  the  throne  of  Prussia,  ^\\\en  his  pre- 
sent majesty  mounted  it,  with  the  fairest  princess  of 
Europe  bj  his  side,  and  both  surrounded  by  a  family, 
in  which  alone  they  continued  to  seek  their  pure  plea- 
sures and  simple  amusements.  Courtly  extravagance 
and  dissoluteness  were  banished,  for  empty  pomp  and 
noisy  gaiety  did  not  suit  their  domestic  attachments; 
while  they  supported  the  dignity  of  the  crown,  they 
never  made  themselves  the  slaves  of  court  etiquette. 

From  the  moment  that  Prussia  awoke,  too  late,  on 
the  brink  of  the   precipice  to  which  an  unstable  and 
short-sighted  policy  had  conducted  her,  the  life  of  this 
young   and  beautiful  woman  was  uninterrupted   bodily 
decay,  the  effect  of  mental  suffering.     Her  hopes  had 
been  high,  that  the  exertions  of  1806  might  still  save 
the  monarchy;  she  accompanied  the  king  to  the  army, 
but  retired  to  a  place  of  safety  immediately  before 
the  battle  of  Jena.     She  and  the  king  parted  in  tears, 
and  never  met  again  in  happiness;  the  battle  was  lost, 
and  Prussia  was  virtually  effaced  from  the  number  of 
the  nations.     She  came  down  to  Tilsit,  during  the  ne- 
gotiations that   followed,  much,  it  is  said,  against  her 
own   inclination,   but  in  the   view   that   her  presence 
might  be  useful  in  softening  the  conqueror,  who  had 
declared  that,  in  ten  years,   his  own  dynasty  would  be 
the    oldest    in    Europe.     It   would  probably  be  going 
too  far  to  follow,  to  its  whole  extent,  the  enthusiastic 
execration  which   the   Prussians  bestow  on  Bonaparte 
for  the  unfeeling  insolence  with  which  they  assert  him 
to  have  treated  their  idolized  queen  ;  but   it   was  an 
unmanly  exploit,  to  strive  to  hurt  the  feelings  of  a  wo- 
man.    "The  object  of  my  journey,"  said  the  queen  to 
him,  on  his  first  visit   after  her   arrival,  "  is  to  prevail 
on    your     majesty    to    grant    Prussia    an    honourable 
peace." — "  How,"    ansv/ered   Napoleon,  in   a   tone   of 
sovereign  contempt,  "  how  could  you  think  of  going  to 
war    with    me  .^" — "It    was   allowable,"   replied     the 
queen,  "  that  the  fame  of  Frederick  should  lead  us  to 


THE  QUEEN.  267 

overrate  our  strength,  if  we  have  overrated  It."  Na- 
poleon always  acted  towards  Prussia  with  the  viru- 
lence of  a  personal  enemy,  rather  than  with  the  pru- 
dence of  an  ambitious  conqueror;  but  he  is  alleged  to 
have  hated  the  queen  still  more  bitterly  than  the  king, 
whom  he  affected  to  despise.  He  believed  it  was  her 
iniiuence,  and  that  of  Hardenberg,  that  had  brought 
Prussia  into  the  field;  and  he  knew  the  queen's  insu- 
perable enmity  to  him,  joined  to  the  love  which  her 
subjects  lavished  on  her,  to  be  a  principal  source  of 
the  hatred  that  burned  against  him  in  every  corner  of 
the  kingdom.  While  Berlin  remained  in  his  posses- 
sion, tongues  and  pens  were  ordered  to  ridicule  and 
vilify  the  queen  ;  nor  did  the  emperor  himself  always 
blush  at  relating  the  lying  calumnies  Invented  to  please 
him.  A  distinguished  literary  character  had  the  bold- 
ness to  say  In  the  very  presence-chamber  of  Napo- 
leon, "If  his  majesty  wishes  to  be  thought  an  empe- 
ror, he  must  first  learn  to  be  more  of  a  knight ;  by 
encouraging  these  foul  slanders  against  an  absent  and 
unfortunate  woman,  he  only  makes  It  doubtful  whether 
he  be  even  a  man." 

From  this  moment,  the  queen  visibly  sunk;  her  high 
spirit  could  not  brook  the  downfall  of  her  house,  and 
her  keen  feelings  only  preyed  the  more  rapidly  on  her 
health  from  the  effort  with  which  she  concealed  them; 
the  unassuming  piety  and  natural  dignity  of  her  cha- 
racter allowed  neither  repining  nor  complaint.  She 
lived  just  long  enough  to  witness  the  utter  degradation 
of  the  monarchy,  and  to  exhort  her  sons  to  remember 
that  they  had  but  one  duty  to  perform,  to  avenge  Its 
wrongs,  and  retrieve  Its  disgraces, — and  they  have  done 
it.  "  My  sons,"  said  she  to  them  when  she  felt,  what 
all  were  yet  unwilling  to  believe,  that  the  seal  of  death 
was  upon  her,  "  when  your  mother  is  gone,  you  will 
weep  over  her  memory,  as  she  herself  now  weeps  over 
the  memory  of  our  Prussia.  But  you  must  act.  Free 
your  people  from  the  degradation  In  which  they  lie  ; 


aea  BERLIN. 

show  yourselves  worthy  to  be  descendants  of  Frede- 
rick. God  bless  you,  my  dear  boys  !  this  is  my  legacy, 
save  your  ccuntrj',  or  die  like  men." 

This  salvation  was  in  reserve  for  Prussia,  and  the 
memory  of  the  queen  had  no  small  share  in  producing 
that  burst  of  national  devotedness  by  which  it  was 
wrought  out.  While  sinking  beneath  the  heart-break- 
ing pressure  of  the  present,  she  never  desponded  con- 
cerning the  future;  a  firm  belief  that  the  debasing  . 
yoke  could  not  endure,  clung  to  her  to  the  last,  and 
her  letters,  especially  those  to  her  father,  expiess  it 
repeatedly.  In  one  she  says,  "  The  power  of  France 
cannot  stand,  for  it  is  founded  only  on  what  is  bad  in 
man,  his  vanity  and  selfishness."  Her  firm  assurance 
"Was  shared  by  the  whole  nation;  after  her  death,  they 
still  looked  forward  v/ith  confidence  to  the  fulfilment 
of  her  hopes.  It  seemed  as  if  the  superstition  which 
Tacitus  has  recorded  of  the  ancient  Germans  had  re- 
vived  among  their  posterity,  and  the  spirit  of  a  woman  'fl 
was  held  to  possess  prophetic  power.  When  the  hour  ^ 
of  fulfilment  did  come,  Louisa  was  a  sort  of  watch-word 
to  the  arming  Prussians  ;  not  one  of  them  ever  forgave 
the  insults  or  forgot  the  misfortunes  of  his  queen.  Even 
amid  the  triumphs  and  exultation  of  the  contest  which 
hurled  France  beyond  the  Rhine,  and  her  unquiet  des- 
pot from  his  throne,  accents  of  regret  were  ever  and 
anon  bursting  forth,  "  She  has  not  lived  to  see  it ;"  and 
long  after  she  was  gone,  the  females  of  Berlin  were 
wont,  on  the  monthly  return  of  the  day  of  her  death, 
to  repair,  in  affectionate  pilgrimage,  to  her  tomb  at 
Charlottenburg,  and  deck  her  grave  with  fresh  flowers. 

The  king  recovered  his  honour  and  his  kingdom,  but 
has  never  regained  his  cheerfulness  and  happiness, 
since  he  saw  his  queen  expire,  f)ressing  to  her  bosom 
the  last  letter  he  had  written  to  her.  Every  body 
knows  his  despairing  exclamation  to  his  father-in-law  ; 
"  Had  she  belonged  to  any  other,  she  would  have  liv- 
ed ;  but  because  she  belonged  to  me,  she   must  die." 


THE  KING.  26J 

It  is  not  easy  to  conceive  a  monarch  borne  down  by 
more  accumulated  suirering  than  wliat  was  laid  on  this 
unha{)py  prince.  Stripped  of  the  better  part  of  his 
territories,  and  holding  the  rest  by  a  severe,  and  yet 
uncertain  peace  ;  exposed,  at  every  moment,  to  the  ar- 
rogance of  a  political  su[)erior,  who  acted  towards  him, 
at  the  same  time,  with  the  venom  and  coarseness  of  a 
personal  enemy  ;  knowing  that  his  subjects  were  im- 
poverished by  an  unsuccessful  war,  and  vet  com|)clled 
to  increase  their  burdens  to  meet  the  demands  of  the 
conqueror  ;  depressed  by  the  humiliating  reflection, 
that,  under  him,  the  glories  of  his  race  had  passed 
away,  and  that.  Instead  of  the  powerful  monarcliy  and 
dreaded  army  which  he  had  received  from  the  genius 
of  his  predecessors,  he  had  nothing  to  transmit  to  his 
sons  but  a  ruined  kingdom,  and  the  history  of  his  de- 
feats ;  struck,  at  the  same  time,  with  the  heaviest  of 
all  domestic  blows,  in  the  loss  of  her  to  whom  his  heart 
"was  more  fondly  and  firmly  rivetted  than  to  his  crown; 
— so  far  is  it  from  being  wonderful  that  the  character 
of  Frederick  William  has  become  serious  and  retired, 
that  these  very  qualities  are  virtues.  The  heart  which 
readily  forgets  all  that  it  suffered  in  days  of  adver&ity 
gives  no  good  promise  of  steadiness  or  moderation  in 
more  prosperous  fortunes. 

In  the  presence  and  form  of  the  Prussian  monarch 
there  is  nothing  commanding,  nothing  that  might  be 
termed  kingly.  His  features  are  not  vulgar,  but  they 
approach  the  unmeaning  ;  they  do  not  suggest  imbeci- 
lity, but  they  speak  mental  inactivity.  He  stands  much 
higher  with  his  subjects  on  the  score  of  heart  than  of 
head.  Frequently  as  he  appears  among  them,  it  is 
more  as  a  fellow  citizen,  than  in  the  pomp  or  terrors 
of  despotic  royalty.  A  review  is  the  only  piece  of  re- 
gal parade  in  which  he  seems  to  find  much  enjoyment. 
Since  the  days  of  Frederick,  the  military  manoeuvres, 
in  spring  and  autumn,  have  always  attracted  much  at- 
tention and  admiration  in  the  north  of  Germany  ;  but. 


370  BERLIK 

except  the  imposing  spectacle  of  great  masses  of  well 
disciplined  soldiers,  in  splendid  uniforms,  to  a  mere  ci- 
vilian who  does  not  understand  the  combmations,  nor 
can  follow  the  leading  idea  which  directs  the  various 
movements,  the  bustle,  and  riding,  and  shoutini;,  is 
scarcely  more  animating  tlmn  that  of  a  fox  hunt.  Be- 
tween iifteen  and  twenty  thousand  men  were  said  to  be 
in  the  field  ;  the  manoeuvres,  apeing  the  movements  of 
a  regular  campaign,  were  executed  in  an  open  tract  of 
country  to  the  westward  of  the  capital,  and  extended 
over  a  space  of  ten  or  twelve  miles.  During  the  four 
days  that  the  campaign  lasted,  the  king  rode  hard  and 
worked  hard  ;  but  his  eldest  son,  the  Crown  Prince, 
who  is  allowed  to  have  military  talent  in  him,  was  by 
far  the  most  active  personage.  A  few  years  ago,  the 
manoeuvres  tertninated  with  a  feigned  attack  and  de- 
fence of  Berlin.  The  Crown  Prince,  who  commanded 
the  attacking  army,  made  his  way  into  the  town  in  de- 
fiance of  the  king,  and,  by  an  unexpected  movement, 
made  his  father  a  prisoner  in  his  own  palace.  When 
he  made  this  parricidal  onset,  a  park  of  artillery,  sta- 
tioned at  the  palace,  was  discharged  against  him  in 
such  a  hurry,  that  scarcely  a  pane  of  glass  remained 
unbroken  in  the  whole  edilice. 

The  interest  which  the  king  takes  in  these  armed 
shows  is  much  more  political  than  military,  for  he 
makes  no  pretensions  to  any  distinguished  acquaintance 
with  the  art  of  war.  No  prudent  man  will  assert,  that 
Prussia,  exposed  as  she  is  to  France,  Russia,  and  Aus* 
tria,  can  safely  exist,  in  the  present  condition  of  Eu- 
rope, without  maintair)ing  as  large  an  army  as  her  re- 
sources will  allow.  Her  king  is  not  able  to  lead  an 
army  in  a  campaign;  but  in  every  other  way,  he  takes 
an  interest  in  the  state  of  the  military  force  of  his  mo- 
narchy, and  there  is  every  reason  why  he  should  do 
so.  It  would  not  be  wise  in  the  soverei^rn  of  a  coun- 
try,  whose  very  existence  may  every  moment  turn  out 
to  depend  on   its   military  strength,  to  manifest  any  in- 


THE  CROWN  FRINGE.  27i 

dliTerence  to  the  state  of  his  army,  even  though  it 
sliould  expose  him  to  the  charges  of  mihtarj  ailbcta- 
tion  which  have  so  often  been  brought  against  the  King 
of  Prussia.  It  has  been  tlie  fashion,  with  certain  classes 
of  persons,  to  represent  him  as  merely  an  imbecile  pro- 
jector of  uniforms ;  the  attention  which  he  pays  to  his 
army  rests  on  a  far  more  sohd  and  politic  ground  than 
any  silly  fondness  for  military  parade. 

Though  liberal  in  supporting  ilie  utility  of  public 
mstitutions,  and  the  splendour  of  public  amusemerits, 
he  lavishes  nothing  on  his  own  personal  pleasures. 
No  sovereign  could  display  less  attachment  to  the 
mere  gaudy  pomp  and  lawless  gratifications  of  royalty. 
A  gentleman  started  one  evening,  in  a  mixed  company, 
the  hasty  proposition,  that  all  the  Prussian  nionarchs 
had  been  distinguished  for  frugality.  Of  the  earlier 
ones,  little  seemed  to  be  known ;  for  Frederick  he  had 
the  old  story,  that  he  seldom  had  more  than  three 
shirts,  and  that,  when  any  of  them  gave  way,  in  the 
course  of  campaiji^ning,  he  used  to  write  to  his  sister, 
the  Duchess  of  Brunswick,  entreating  her,  for  Chris- 
tian charity,  to  make  him  a  new  one.  The  late  king 
Avas  P-iven  up  as  irreconcilcable  with  the  truth  of  the 
proposition;  and  being  hard  pressed  to  prove,  even  m 
the  reigning  sovereign,  any  spirit  of  economy  which 
did  not  arise  from  necessity,  the  defender  of  Prussian 
frugality  alleged  the  anecdote,  that,  on  the  first  visit 
Avhich  the  present  king  paid  to  tlie  Isle  of  Peacocks, 
after  having  had  the  walks  laid  with  new  gravel,  the 
only  remark  he  made  was,  "  What  excellent  gravel 
this  is !  how  it  saves  one's  boots !"  A  much  more 
serious  proof  of  the  same  laudable  quality  lies  in  the 
fact,  that,  during  the  degradation  of  the  monarchy,  he 
put  his  royal  establishment  on  a  footing  which  many 
an  English  nobleman  would  have  reckoned  mean.  He 
frequently  would  not  even  allow  his  sons  wine. 

The  Crown  Pi'ince,  the  heir  apparent  of  the  Prus- 
sian monarchy,  has  the   reputation  of  being  a  cleverer 


272  BERLIN. 

man  than  his  father,  hut  does  not  seem  to  be  so  uni- 
versal a  favourite.     If  public    tales  "can  be   in  aught 
believed,"  his  sharpness  is  accompanied  with   that  un- 
fortunate disposition  which   makes  many   men  prefer 
making  an  enemy   to   losing  a  joke.     An  old    and  re- 
spected   member    of   the    government   of    Pomerania 
closed  a  memorial  to  the  ministers,  recommending  cer- 
tain  improvements  in   the  administration  of  the    pro- 
vince, with  saying,  that,  if  adopted,  they  would  create 
a  second    Pomerania.     Shortly  afterwards,  he  ap[)ear- 
ed  at  the  levee  of  his  Royal   Highness  in  Stettin,  and 
the  unfashionable  Avidth  of  the  lower  part  of  his  dress 
raised  a  titter  among  the  more  courtly  attendants.     "  I 
am  happy  to  see  you,  Herr, — "  said  the  prince,   "and 
I  doubt  not  but  you  have    brought  the   second  Pomer- 
ania in  your  breeches  pocket."     For  the  sake  of  a  bad 
joke,  he  chose  to  ridicule  a  worthy  and  deserving  man. 
Prussia  owes  a  large  debt  to  the  late  Chancellor  Har- 
denberg;  yet^  if  half  the  stories  in  circulation  be  true,^ 
the   Crown  Prince   lost  no  opportunity  of  expressing 
his  dislike  for  him,  and   was  sometimes  rewarded  for 
his  flippancy   with   confinement   to  his  own   house,  by 
order  of  his  father.     On  some  of  the  annual  festivals, 
it  is  a  customary  amusement  all  over  the  north  of  Ger- 
many, to  elect   a  king  of  the  family  circle.     His   ma- 

*  If  it  be  jiifst  to  require  ofevery  traveller  that  he  shall  not  indulge 
in  the  mere  fl'ppant,  uninteresting  gossippins^  of  private  scnndai,  or 
abuse  the  kindness  of  foreig-ners  towards  him  as  a  stranger,  so  as 
to  injure  their  own  comtort,  it  is  equally  true,  that  he  cannot  be 
called  on  to  vouch  for  the  certain  truth  of  all  anecdotes  which 
may  reach  his  ears.  Where  they  concern  persons  or  things  of 
sufficient  importance  to  justify  the  mention  of  them  at  all,  he  does 
enough  if  he  can  say  that  they  are  current  in  the  mouths  of  per- 
sons in  grave  and  well  informed  society.  An  anecdote  in  general 
circulation,  even  though  not  strictly  true  in  point  of  fact,  will  com- 
monly be  accordant  with  the  chnracter  of  the  person  of  whom  it 
is  related,  and  will  thus  be  a  correct,  though  perhaps  a  fictitious 
illustration  of  his  mode  of  acting.  Anecdotes,  in  fact,  are  just  like 
bank-notes  ;  few  persons  can  tell  which  are  genuine,  and  which 
are  not ;  but  every  one  lends  his  aid  to  keep  them  in  circulation. 


THE  CROWN  PRINCE.  srs 

jesfy  chooses  a  queen  for  himself,  and  the  royal  pair 
exercise  despotic  authority  over  the  domestic  realm 
for  the  evening,  just  as  in  England  on  Twell'th  Night. 
On  an  occasion  of  this  kind,  the  king  had  gathered  his 
family  and  some  of  his  personal  friends  round  him. 
The  lot  placed  the  diadem  of  the  evening  on  the  head 
of  the  Crown  Prince,  and  his  Royal  Highness  imme- 
diately placed  by  his  side  a  young  princess  of  a  north- 
ern court.  "  Come,  my  queen,  you  must  first  of  all 
take  a  lesson  in  the  art  of  governing;  you  will  not 
find  it  very  puzzling;  It  goes  thus.  We  find  out  some 
sly,  crafty  fellow,  such  a  person  as  Hardenberg,  for 
example.  We  tell  him  to  have  money  ready  for  us 
whenever  we  want  it,  and  to  do  as  he  likes,  and  you 
and  I  sit  still  and  play  cards.  Don't  you  think,  my 
love,  we  shall  get  on  well  enough?" — "Can  you  di- 
vine, Hardenberg,  what  Is  the  first  thing  I  shall  do 
when  J  am  king?"  said  he  once  to  the  Chancellor. 
"  I  am  confident,"  replied  the  latter,  it  will  be  some- 
thing equally  honourable  to  your  Royal  Highness,  and 
beneficial  to  the  public." — "  Right  for  once.  Chancel- 
lor, for  it  Avill  be  to  send  you  to  Spandau."  It  was 
customary  for  the  princes  of  the  blood,  as  well  as  the 
nobilitj^,  to  wait  on  Prince  Hardenberg  with  their  con- 
gratulations, on  the  anniversary  of  his  bu'th-day.  The 
Crown  Prince  refused  to  go,  until  compelled  to  it  by 
his  father,  under  the  pain  of  the  royal  displeasure.  I 
hope,  Fritz,  "(the  domestic  abbreviation  of  Frede- 
rick,) that  you  will  never  have  the  same  reason  which 
I  have  had,  to  know  what  such  a  man  is  worth."  The 
Prince  drives  to  the  Chancellor,  makes  the  formal 
congratulation,  and  adds,  "  I  have  done  this  by  the 
command  of  my  father ;  as  to  the  rest,  remember. 
Chancellor,  that  you  and  I  are  where  we  were,"  (e5 
hleibt  heim  altenJ)  There  was  neither  good  sense  nor 
good  feeling  in  such  petulant  conduct  towards  a  grey- 
lieaded  statesman,  to  whom  the  monarchy  owed  so 
much. 

35 


574  BERLIN. 


CHAPTER  X. 

BERIIX — THE  MANNERS — THE   TJNIVERSITY — THE  PRESS 

THE    GOVERNMENT. 

Although  of  a  less  lively  capacity  than  the  Saxons, 
the  upper  classes  of  Prussian  society  are  at  least  a* 
thinking  and  well  educated  people  as  the  correspond- 
ing classes  in  any  other  German  state,  and  much  more 
so  than  their  brethren  of  Austria,  The  veiy  poverty 
which  has  overtaken  so  many  of  them,  partly  from  the 
events  of  the  war,  but  still  more  from  the  division  of 
property  brought  about  by  the  government  itself,  has 
done  thcQi  good  in  this  respect.  While  they  have 
been  descending,  other  ranks  of  society  have  been  ris- 
ing, in  the  possession  of  what  v^as  indispensable  to  the 
respectability  of  their  aristocratlcal  supremacy,  supe- 
rior wealth  ;  and  they  have  found  themselves  compel- 
led to  make  themselves  respectable  as  men.  Above 
all,  the  end  which  Stein  and  Hardenberg  put  to  their 
exclusive  enjoyment  of  all  public  offices  has  had  the 
good  eiTect  of  driving  them  to  fit  themselves  for  these 
offices.  Nothing  teazed  or  provoked  them  more  than 
the  crowd  of  novi  homines  introduced  into  the  different 
departments  of  the  administration.  The  letter  of  the 
law  has  thrown  every  office,  civil  and  military,  open  to 
the  ambition  of  every  citizen;  and  the  proper  spirit 
which  produced  the  change  has  acted  upon  it."*     The 

*  Before  the  change  introduced  by  Stein  shortly  after  the  bat- 
tle of  Jena,  almost  every  officer  in  the  array  was  of  noble  birth  ; 
and  an  unthinking  and  superhcial  party  in  Germany,  which  eager- 
ly hunts  out  every  circumstance  that  can  be  turned  against  the 
aristocracy,  has  not  scrupled  to  ascribe  to  this,  though  very  un- 
justly, the  loss  of  the  battle.  In  1817,  according  to  a  statement  in 
Benzenherg's  Wilhelm  Der  Drittc^  there  were  4140  officers  of  no- 
ble birth,  and  33&3  commoners. 


MANNERS.  575 

prejudices  of  a  once  privileged  caste,  however,  still 
cluDg  to  them  ;  they  could  not  easily  be  taught  to  sec 
how  their  own  beneficial  superiority  was  most  lastingly 
secured  by  the  very  changes  which  destroyed  their 
exclusive  predominance.  Accordingly,  they  are  still 
the  body  which  throws  most  obstacles  in  the  way  of 
introducing  popular  spirit,  and  the  influence  of  the 
popular  voice,  into  the  forms  of  government.  Their 
rank  necessarily  brings  them  into  perpetual  contact 
with  the  monarch;  they  are  willing  that  he  should  re- 
tain absolute  authority,  because  they  believe  that  the 
greater  share  of  it  will  be  lodged  in  themselves,  as 
forming  the  society  in  which  he  lives,  and  because  they 
regard  every  measure  which  tends  to  elevate  their  in- 
feiiors  as  an  aggression  on  their  own  rights.  M.  do 
Bulow  wrote  one  of  the  many  answers  which  Benzen- 
berg's  book  on  Prince  Hardenberg's  administration 
called  forth.  He  there  says  :  "  In  war,  dedicated  to 
the  defence  of  the  country,  and  particularly  formed 
for  this  calling,  the  nobility  are,  in  peace,  the  guar- 
dians of  fine  manners.  To  them  has  hitherto  been  en- 
trusted the  representation  of  the  country,  and  they 
have  always  proved  a  powerful  bulwark  against  the 
arbitrary  conduct  of  public  servants."  He  adds,  "  The 
king  is  the  supreme  head  given  by  God  to  the  nation, 
and  unites  in  himself  the  legislative,  judicial,  and  exe- 
cutive powers,  being  responsible,  not  to  the  nation,  but 
only  to  God,  and  his  own  conscience."  Though  it  is 
to  be  lamented  that  a  man  of  rank  and  education 
should,  at  this  time  of  day,  so  openly  maintain  at  once 
oligarchy  and  the  divine  right,  yet  the  gentleman  who 
wrote  this  is  evidently  no  blockhead;  his  book  con- 
tains much  information,  and,  on  many  points,  a  great 
deal  of  good  sense. 

It  is  dangerous  to  form  sweeping  judgments  concern- 
ing the  manners  and  morality  of  a  people,  without  a 
longer  residence  among  them  than  I  enjoyed  among 
the  Prussians  ;  but,  from  all  I  learned,  as  well  as  from 


£76  BERLIN. 

the  testimony  of  foreigners  who  had  long  had  opportu- 
nities of  observing,  the  higher  ranks  in  Berhn  are  a 
more  worthy  and  well-behaved  set  of  people  than 
those  of  the  same  class  in  any  other  Gorman  capital  of 
importance.  This  honourable  change  for  the  better, 
from  what  they  were  thirty  years  ago,  is  to  be  ascrib- 
ed, in  a  great  degree,  to  the  example  set  them  by  his 
majesty  and  the  late  queen;  their  domestic  habits,  and 
pure  lives,  chased  from  the  court  the  debaucheries 
which  had  polluted  it  during  the  last  years  oi  their 
predecessor.  Then  came  tlie  sobering  influence  of  na- 
tional ruin  and  private  disaster,  which  at  once  compel- 
led them  to  think,  and  disabled  them  from  spending. 
Tlie  better  moral  character  which  they  have  gained 
for  them.-eives  is,  in  a  g  eat  measure,  deserved,  but 
not,  I  am  afraid,  to  the  full  extent  to  which  it  has 
been  ascribed  to  them;  at  least,  among  the  middling 
and  inferior  classes,  there  is  no  want  of  unblushing  li- 
cense, and  unprincipled  intrigue;  and,  that  the  lower 
ranks  should  be  very  dissolute,  while  their  superiors 
are  people  of  very  exemplary  conduct,  is  a  phenome- 
non, the  existence  of  which^  from  the  very  nature  of 
civil  society,  must  always  be  received  with  some  incre- 
dulity. 

Morality  cannot  but  suffer  from  the  impolitic  and 
indecent  facility  with  which  the  marriage  tie  is  dissolv- 
ed, a  facility  common,  though  in  various  degrees,  to  all 
the  Protestant  countries  of  Germany ;  and  perhaps  no 
less  injurious  than  the  absolute  indissolubility  of  that 
relation  which  reigns  in  Catholic  countries.  A  separa- 
tion is  so  easily  obtained,  even  on  grounds  which  ap- 
proach mere  caprice,  that  marriage  ceases  to  be  view- 
ed in  the  serious  and  lasting  light  which  is  essential  to 
its  well-being,  and  becomes  a  temporary  connection,  to 
endure  only  so  long  as  liking  or  interest  may  render  it 
advisable.  In  1817,  3000  marriages  were  dissolved  in 
Prussia,  among  a  population  of  not  much  more  than 
ten  millions. 


MANNERS.  ^77 

Neither  are  the  lower  orders  of  the  Prussians  at  all 
a  noisy  people  in  their  amusements;  to  smoke  and 
drink  beer,  or  wine,  if  they  be  rich  enouo^h  to  alFord  it, 
is  the  highest  enjoyment  oi  the  ordinary  j)eople.  The 
capital  is  surrounded  with  gardens  set  apart  for  these 
solitary  enjoyments.  A  man  sets  in'msclf  down  for 
hours  in  a  room,  filled  with  smoke,  if  it  rains, — or  in 
an  arbour,  if  the  weather  be  fair,  dead  to  every 
earthly  source  of  interest  except  the  tobacco  which 
regales  his  palate,  and  the  band  of  music  which  is  ge- 
nerally provided  to  regale  his  ears.  Even  the  dance, 
which  in  Vienna  brings  joyous  crowds  together  in  a 
hundred  scenes  of  laughter,  and  humour,  and  dissolute- 
ness, is,  in  Berlin,  both  less  frequent  and  less  perni- 
cious. Besides  walking,  the  game  of  nine-pins  alone, 
as  a  l)odlly  exertion,  seems  to  overcome  their  apathy; 
scores  of  parties  hurl  along  their  bowls  every  e veiling, 
under  long  wooden  sheds.  Altogether,  they  appear  to 
have  a  strong  disposition  to  mind  no  person's  business 
but  their  own,  and  intermeddle  with  nothing  which 
does  not  immediately  concern  themselves.  I  saw  a 
thief  pursued  one  day  in  the  streets;  a  servant-maid 
of  the  house  from  which  he  had  just  carried  off  some 
silver-spoons,  was  running  after  him,  raising  the  hue 
and  cry.  He  crossed  the  Linden,  which  was  crowded 
with  idle  people,  and  coursed  along  the  northern  divi- 
sion of  the  Wilhelmstrasse,  one  of  the  busiest  parts  of 
the  city.  Here  half  a  dozen  turned  their  heads  to  see 
what  was  the  matter;  there  half  a  dozen  stood  still  to 
witness  the  race  between  the  thief  and  the  girl  ;  half 
a  dozen  boys  joined  in  the  chace  ;  and  the  thief,  in 
broad  day-light,  distanced  his  pursuers,  and  made  his 
escape,  without  any  sort  of  difficulty  or  interruption. 
In  Britain  there  would  have  been  a  hundred  pair  of 
heels  after  him,  and  a  dozen  pair  of  hands  grasping  his 
throat,  in  the  tw  inkling  of  an  eye. 

Even  among  the  lowest  of  the  people,  you  seldom 
witness  those  scenes  of  brutal  intoxication  which  sofre- 


sra  BERLIN. 

quently  attend  the  Idle  hours  of  the  same  classes  in  our 
o\Yn  country.  They  have  the  farther  merit  of  seldom 
quarrelling  in  their  cups,  and  the  more  questionable 
one  of  never  coming  to  blows,  when  they  do  quarrel. 
A  German  quarrel  is  almost  universally  a  mere  war- 
fare of  words  ;  the  parties  belabour  each  other  with 
the  most  brutal  language,  without  any  object  but  that 
of  having  the  last  word.  A  stranger  who  listens  to  the 
abusive  terms  which  they  heap  upon  each  other,  sees 
no  possibility  of  the  matter  coming  to  any  other  termi- 
nation than  what  is  vulgarly  called  "  a  set-to,"  and  that, 
too,   a  speedy   one.     JYoch  eintnal,  "  will  you   say  that 

aaain  ?"  seems  to  be  the  si£:nal  for  blows,  but  no  blows 

1  II*" 

come.     If  the  w^ords    be   not  repeated,  the  victory  is 

won,  and  the  combatants  separate  with  mutual  growi- 
imrs  ;  if  they  be  repeated,  then  they  are  answered,  not 
with  a  blow,  but  with  some  still  more  gross  and  inde- 
cent expression  of  obloquy,  and  the  course  of  eloquence 
begins  again,  to  terminate  in  the  same  way,  till  one  of 
the  opposing  orators  has  scolded  himself  out  of  breath. 
Such  a  mode  of  quarrelling  among  men  annihilates  a 
distinction  between  the  sexes,— which  is  always  a  bad 
thing.  Even  the  German  oaths  are  too  tame  for  a 
mortal  verbal  quarrel ;  they  neither  possess  the  reck- 
less, execrating  energy  of  our  own,  nor  excite  the  my- 
thological reminiscences  of  the  Italian  oaths.  It  is 
amusing  to  hear  an  Italian  sw^ear,  in  one  breath,  by  the 
Mother  of  God,  and,  in  the  next,  by  the  body  of  Bac- 
chus. 

The  military  pride  of  the  Prussians  is  almost  as  high 
as  it  was  under  Frederick  ;  and  though  the  late  con- 
test can  perhaps  display  no  particular  combat  to  rival 
the  battles  of  the  Seven  Years'  War,  yet  of  that  na- 
tional spirit  which,  when  well  guided,  produces  milita- 
ry invincibility,  they  have  reason  to  be  proud.  Histo- 
ry presents  few  examples  of  so  universal  a  devotedness 
to  patriotic  duty  as  that  which  Prussia  exhibited,  when 
the   retreat   of  the   French  from  Russia   induced   her 


THE  WAR.  279 

rulers   to   arm.     The  population  of  the  kingdom   did 
not  then  exceed  six  millions  ;  the  fortresses  weie  in  the 
hands  of  the   enemy  ;  the    treasury  was   empty;  the 
army  was  comparatively  insignificant  and  discouraged  ; 
yet  the  mere  love  of  country  in  the  people,  and  hatred 
of  an  enemy  who  had  opj)ressed,  and,  what  was  worse, 
had   insulted   them,   soon  placed  in   the  held  an   arnjy 
greater,  in    proportion    to  the  resources  of   the  monar- 
chy, than  either  that  of  Russia  or  Austria.     From  the 
moment  it  was  known,  that  the  king  intended  to  retire 
into  Silesia,  eager  reports  went  abroad  among  the  pub- 
lic, that  their  ardour  would  soon  be   let  loose.      In  his 
E reclamation  from    Breslau,  the  king   gave  the  signal  ; 
e  told  his  subjects  frankly  :  "  I  want  men  ;   I  liave  no 
money  to    meet  any  great  outlay  ;  I  must  trust  to  you 
for  both  ;  you  know  for  what  we  are  figliting."  Never 
was  the  call  of  a  monarch  better  answered  ;  the  coun- 
try rose  with  an  ardour  and  unanimity,  and  a  fearless- 
ness   of  all  the  dangers   and   sacrifices  of  tlie  contest, 
which    were    more  imposing  in    their  moral   grandeur, 
than  even  in  their  military  power.     It  is  true,  that  the 
squadrons    which   thus   sprung,  as  it  were,  out    of   tlie 
ground,  were   chiefly  raw  citizens   from  the  shop,  the 
desk,  and  the  plough,  or  boys  from  the   class-rooms  of 
the   universities  ;  yet  these  were  the  very  troops  that 
marched  in  triumph  from  the  Katzbach  to  Paris.     No 
age,  and  no  sex,  shrunk  from  the  exertions  and    priva- 
tions which  necessarily  accompanied  this  splendid  burst 
of  national  enthusiasm.    When  the  Prussians  look  back 
on   what   they  then  did  and   suffered,  they  still   find  it 
difiicult  to  conceive  how  they  could  accomplish  it;  and 
it  was,  in  fact,  possible,  only  where  every  inan  lelt  that 
he    was   fighting,  not  merely  a   political  quarrel  of  his 
government,  but  a  personal  quarrel  of  his  own,  and  of 
his  country.     The  pride  with  which  a  Prussian  throws 
out  his  breast  and   erects  his   head,  when  he  speak?  of 
the  "  Liberation  War,  the  Holy  War,  the  War  oi  the 
People,"  which  are  its  popular  appellations,  is  perfect- 


280  BERLIN. 

ly  pardonable.  If  to  shrink  from  no  danger,  where  the 
liberty  and  independence  of  country  are  at  stake,  makes 
a  people  respectable,  no  country  in  Europe  is  entitled 
to  place  itself  above  Prussia.  HowditFerent  a  picture 
did  France  present,  when  her  "  sacred  soil"  was  over- 
run by  triumphant  invaders,  and  the  pretended  idol  of 
her  love  was  about  to  be  driven  from  his  throne  !  How 
little  could  Napoleon  trust  to  his  subjects,  compared 
with  Frederick  William,  at  whom  he  used  to  laugh, 
because  he  could  not  command  an  army,  or  win  a  bat- 
tle !  Germans  know  nothing  of  French  fickleness,  and 
little  of  Italian  misrule ;  they  will  never  behead  a 
Louis  to-day,  to  crouch  to  a  Bonaparte  to-morrow. 

The  popular  mode,  too,  in  which  this  popular  con- 
test has  been  commemorated,  keeps  its  glories  always 
fresh  in  the  minds  of  the  people,  and  memorials  of  it 
always  before  their  eyes.  To  all  who  fell  in  battle, 
after  displaying  conduct  which,  had  they  survived, 
would  have  gained  them  the  Iron  Cross,  monuments 
were  erected  by  the  state.  The  encouraging  recollec- 
tion has  been  still  more  widely  diffused,  by  setting  up, 
in  every  parish  church,  a  tablet,  bearing  the  names  of 
the  men  belonging  to  the  parish  who  fell  in  the  war, 
with  the  simple  inscrlj)tlon,  "  They  died  for  their  king 
and  country."  On  the  conclusion  of  the  campaign,  a 
funeral  service  was  performed  in  every  church,  in  ho- 
nour of  their  memory.  The  pastor  read  their  names 
to  his  congregation,  to  most  of  whom,  of  course,  they 
were  personally  known  ;  he  ran  over  their  "  short  and 
simple  annals,"  and  pronounced  his  panegyric  on  their 
having  proved  faithful  even  unto  the  death.  The  or- 
der of  the  Iron  Cross  was  instituted  solely  to  reward 
the  deeds  done  in  this  war,  and  superseded,  in  the 
meantijne,  all  other  military  decorations.  It  was  of 
iron,  to  mai'k,  as  it  is  expressed  In  the  Act  of  its  Insti- 
tution, the  fortitude  with  which  the  people  had  endur- 
ed, and  the  ardour  with  which  they  were  now  rising  to 
shake  off  the  evils  "  of  an  iron  time."     The  cross  bears 


THE  WAR.  281 

the  initials  of  the  king's  name,  three  oak  leaves,  and 
the  year.  Grand  crosses,  which  were  to  be  given  only 
to  a  commander  who  had  gained  a  battle,  or  success- 
fully deferjded  an  important  I'ortress  or  position,  were 
won  by  BUicher,  Bulow,  Tauenzien,  Yorck,  and  the 
King  of  Sweden.  As  Bhjcher  and  Bu!ow  are  dead, 
only  two  of  the  grand  crosses  remain  in  Prussia.  Of 
the  two  inferior  classes  which,  with  the  same  laudable 
frugality,  were  bestowed  only  on  indubitable  instances 
of  merit,  nearly  ten  thousand  are  said  to  have  been 
distributed.  It  is,  perhaps,  the  only  order  in  Europe, 
of  which  eveiy  man  who  wears  it  can  honestly  say,  1 
won  it  fairly  amid  blood  and  danger. 

The  women,  too,  were  not  awanting  in  the  contest, 
and  to  receive  their  worthies  was  instituted  the  order 
of  Louisa,  in  memory  of  her  whose  name  was  the 
signal  to  vengeance  all  over  the  kingdom.  One  of 
the  first  who  obtained  its  honours  was  the  wife  of  a 
hosier  at  Leignitz,  in  Silesia,  who  supplied  a  whole  re- 
giment with  gloves  at  her  own  expense,  and  converted 
her  house  into  an  hospital  for  wounded  officers.  The 
ladies  sent  their  jewels  and  ornaments  to  the  treasury 
for  the  public  service  ;  they  received  in  return  an  iron 
ring,  with  the  emphatic  eulogy,  Ich  gab  Gold  um  Eisen, 
"  I  gave  Gold  for  Iron  ;"  and  a  Prussian  dame  is  as 
proud,  and  as  justly  proud,  of  this  coarse  decoration, 
as  her  husband  or  her  son  is  of  his  iron  cross.  The 
value  of  these  honours  is  infitiilely  increased  by  the 
impossibility  of  abusing  them;  both  orders  are  sealed 
up ;  they  were  instituted  only  for  this  national  strus^gle, 
and,  with  the  restoration  of  the  Prussian  independnice, 
were  closed  forever,  or,  at  least,  till  a  new  necessity 
shall  again  have  called  forth  a  similar  display  of  love 
of  country.  But  such  things  seldom  happen  twice  in 
the  history  of  a  peo[)le. 

The  University  of  Berlin,  though  only  founded  in 
1810,  is,  after  Gottingen,  the   most  flourishing  and  re- 
putable in  Germany.     Prussia  is  principally  indebted 
36 


21^  BERLIN. 

for  It  fo  Professor  Wolff,  the  well  known  Philologist, 
and  who  is,  hiiuseif,  its  brio^htest  ornament.  He  tilled 
a  chair  in  Halle  ;  when  Hi  lie  was  abolished,  and  tisat 
portion  of  the  monarchy  incor|)orated  with  the  king- 
dom of  Westphalia,  the  Professor  emigrated  to  Berlin, 
full  of  the  idea  of  establishing  a  new  university  in  the 
capital.  He  made  the  proposal  to  the  king,  and  found 
his  majesty  favourable  to  it  ;  but  Stein,  who  was  then 
minister,  could  not  reroncile  his  ideas  of  academical  tran- 
quillity with  the  bustle  and  pleasures  of  a  large  capital, 
and,  with  his  customary  violence,  at  once  pronounced  the 
scheme  to  be  mere  madness.  Humboldt,  however, 
and  Miiller,  the  historian,  enteied  fully  into  the  pro- 
fessor's views  ;  and  it  was  agreed  they  should  meet  at 
supper  at  the  minister's,  and  he  would  liear  what  they 
had  to  say  in  defence  of  their  plan.  Wnlff,  wishing 
to  have  some  conversation  with  Stein  alone,  went  half 
an  hour  sooner  than  his  coadjutors  ;  not  findiirg  the 
minister  at  home,  he  was  leaving  the  door,  when  his 
carriage  drove  up  ;  he  no  sooner  saw  Wolff,  than,  as  if 
his  head  had  been  all  day  full  of  the  subject,  he  cried 
out  vehemently,  while  yet  on  the  steps  of  the  carriage, 
"  I  am  not  of  your  opinion."  Wolff  was  precisely  the 
man  to  deal  with  such  a  character,  and  answered  just 
as  vehemently,  "I  am  not  of  my  own  opinion."  Un- 
accustomed to  be  encountered  in  his  own  way,  the  mi- 
nister stood  astonished,  no  less  at  the  manner,  than 
the  paradoxical  import  of  the  re[)ly.  "Not  of  your 
own  opinion  !  pray,  then,  of  whose  opinion  are  you  ?" 
— "  You  are  for  the  ideal,  and  so  would  I  be  ;  we 
cannot  reach  it,  therefore  I  am  for  the  necessary  and 
practicable,  and  so  must  you  be.  The  lightning  has 
struck  in  amongst  us  ;  we  are  burned  out ;  you  would 
leave  us  without  shelter  because  you  cannot  build  us 
palaces;  I  think  it  would  be  better  to  put  even  huts 
over  our  heads."  In  the  meantime  they  walked  up 
stairs,  the  minister  loudly  and  vehemently  maintaining 
that  it  could  not  succeed.     They  carried  on  the  argu- 


THE  UNIVERSITY.  283 

ment,  if  that  can  be  called  ars^ument,  which  was  an 
alternation  of  hardy,  decided  assertion  and  counter- 
assertion  ;  It  went  on,  as  the  profes-or  expresses  it, 
Sch/ag  auf  Sch/ag.  '*  Good  God!  Wolli;  on!)'  think 
how  many  bastards  von  will  have  every  year !" — 
"  Almost  as  many,  I  dare  say,"  replied  Wollf  coolly, 
"as  they  have  in  Leipzio;." — "■  We  are  too  near  Frank- 
fort on  the  Oder,"  said  the  minister  :  '"  We  are  just 
fiy\ivteen  miles  farther  from  it  th  n  Leipzig  is  from 
Wittenberg,"  answered  the  professor.  1  he  minister 
had  the  worst  of  it  ;  he  was  driven  from  one  position 
after  another;  more  than  all,  he  was  delighted  at 
being  met  in  the  same  determined,  unbending,  almost 
contemptuous  style,  which  characterized  hinjself. 
O.ice  overcome,  he  threw  himself  into  the  design 
with  the  same  ardour  with  which  he  had  opposed  it; 
and  Humboldt  and  Miiller  could  scarcely  trust  their 
ears,  when  the  man,  whom  they  had  left  in  the  morn- 
ing raving  against  the  proposal  as  a  child  ol  bedlam, 
greeted  tfiem,  on  their  entrance  in  the  evening,  with, 
"  It  mu^t  be  ;  it  is  all  settled  ;  we  must  have  a  univer- 
sity here,  cost  what  it  may."  Still  his  fears  of  the 
dangers  to  which  the  young  men  might  be  exposed 
from  the  crowds  of  worthless  women  in  the  capital 
haunted  him.  "Will  you  not  go  to  Potsdam?" — 
"  With  all  my  heart,"  said  W^olff,  "  if  you  promise  to 
send  us  your  libraries,  your  museums,  and,  above  all, 
your  botanic  garden."  The  university  was  establish- 
ed; and,  in  fact,  there  was  every  thing  that  could  pro- 
mise success.  The  king  was  liberal,  far  beyond  the 
merely  necessary,  and  the  capital  was  already  full  of  the 
miterials  for  such  an  institution,  which  could  not  have 
been  collected  any  where  else  without  much  time  and 
a  great  expenditure.  There  was  a  well  stored  library, 
a  botanical  garden,  and  a  museum  of  natural  history, 
besides  anatomical  collections.  Berlin  possessed,  like- 
wise, men  (f  the  first  eminence  in  various  departments. 
Woltr,    himself  a   host,   was    at    tiand   for    philology ; 


£84  BERLIN. 

Klaproth  was  ready  to  take  the  chemical  chair,  to 
which  he  did  so  much  honour  in  the  eyes  of  Europe  ; 
and  what  name,  of  late  years,  has  stood  higher  in 
botany  than  that  of  Wildenovv  ?  Miiller  engaged,  if  it 
should  be  necessary,  to  make  himself  useful  in  history ; 
and,  to  aid  the  young  institution,  Humboldt  himself 
offered  to  read  lectures.  It  was,  indeed,  the  first  ex- 
periuient  of  setting  down  a  crowd  of  wild  German 
academicians  in  the  midst  of  a  large  capital ;  but  the 
consequences  have  fully  justified  the  sagacity  of  those 
who  recommended  it.  The  students,  instead  of  being 
more  disorderly,  are  less  unruly  than  elsewhere.  Their 
love  of  power  cannot  fight  its  way  through  such  a 
population ;  they  are  lost  in  the  crowd,  and  the  out- 
rageous spirit  of  domineei'ing  dies  out  from  want  of 
food.  Apprehensions  were  entertained,  that  they 
Would  not  live  in  amity  with  the  military  ;  and  there 
have  been  some  duels,  in  which  one  or  two  of  the 
Burschen  have  been  shot,  the  most  efficacious  of  all  re- 
medies to  bring  the  whole  body  to  their  senses.  Not 
only  the  Burschen  defenders  of  academical  liberty,  but 
many  professors  who  reckon  their  own  exclusive  juris- 
diction essential  to  the  well-being  of  a  university,  have 
said  much  against  the  degree  to  which  Prussia  has  re- 
strained this  power,  and  represent  it  as  having  lowered 
the  tone,  and  confined  the  utility  of  her  seminaries. 
There  is  not  a  word  of  truth  in  it ;  there  is  not  in 
Germany  a  better  behaved,  or  more  effective  univer- 
sity than  Berlin. 

Wolff  himself  is  the  best  know^n  of  its  members,  a 
most  erudite,  and  friendly,  and  entertaining  person; 
full  of  Greek,  but  still  fuller  of  good  humour  and  jo- 
cularity, and  overflowing  with  remark  and  anecdote, 
the  result  of  a  long  life  spent  in  constant  communica- 
tion with  all  the  great  characters,  not  merely  of  Ger- 
many, but  of  many  foreign  countries.  Notwithstand- 
ing his  learning  and  fame,  no  man  can  be  farther  re- 
moved from  pedantry  and  pride,  and,  like  Blumenbach, 


THE  UNIVERSITY.  285 

he  hates  nothing  so  much  as  erudite  dulness.  You  can- 
not converse  with  him  half  an  hour,  without  finding 
out  that  lie  is  a  clever  and  entertaining  man;  but  you 
may  converse  with  him  for  months  without  finding  out 
that  he  is,  if  not  the  first,  assuredly  among  the  first 
scholars  of  his  day.  The  first  work  he  pubhshed  was 
a  translation  of  the  Fatal  Curiosity,  to  which  he  pre- 
fixed a  Dissertation  on  the  Drama,  written  in  English. 
It  was  published  anonj  mously,  and  the  German  review- 
ers took  it  into  their  heads,  that  it  must  be  the  pro- 
duction of  some  English  language  master  who  wished 
lo  give  a  spe^^imen  of  his  acquirements  in  both  tongues. 
Accordingly,  they  found  the  English  part  of  the  book 
to  be  excellently  well  written,  and  declared  that  the 
German  part  betrayed  at  once  the  pen  of  a  foreigner, 
who  had  but  an  imperfect  acquaintance  with  the  lan- 
guage !  He  once  proposed  to  execute  a  translation  of 
Homer,  in  which  not  only  word  should  be  rendered  for 
word,  but  foot  fur  foot,  and  caesura  lor  caesura.  A 
few  specimens  of  it  have  been  printed  in  the  third  vo- 
lume of  his  Analecta.  He  began  with  the  Odyssey, 
translated  about  an  hundred  lines,  and  finding  the  labour 
too  great,  and  the  gain  too  small,  freed  himself  by  de- 
manding eighteen  rix-dollars  for  every  verse,  a  price 
which  he  knew  well  nobody  could  pay.  One  verse 
cost  him  two  weeks.  He  succeeded  best  when  travel- 
ling, and  boasts  of  having  translated  a  whole  line  and  a 
half  during  a  journey  to  Hamburgh,  an  effect  of  motion 
which  he  first  learned  from  Klopstock.  He  is  best 
kno^vn  among  scholars  by  the.  Prolegomena  to  his  Ho- 
mer, wliich  have  placed  him  at  the  head  of  classical 
sceptics.  The  doctrines  maintained  in  this  celebrated 
Introduction  were  far  from  being  altogether  new;  but 
Wolff  was  the  first  who  gave  them  a  connected  and 
systematic  form,  and  propped  them  with  an  extent  of 
erudition  and  an  acuteness  of  remark,  which  the  orthodox 
believers  in  the  antiquity,  purity,  and  unity  of  the  Ho- 


£86  BERLIN. 

meric  poems  will  not  easily  get  over.*  The  doctrines 
of  the  new  sect,  however,  have  not  yet  made  great  pro- 
gress. "  If  twenty  persons  understand  them  in  Germa- 
ny," says  the  professor  himself,  "  probably  twenty-one 
understaiid  them  in  En^^land  ;  but  I  am  quite  sure  that 
in  less  than  two  hundred  years,  every  body  will  under- 
stand them,  and  believe  them,  too/'  He  avers,  that 
the  Enii;lish  bishops  are  to  blame  for  the  little  pro- 
gress his  creed  has  made  in  this  country,  although 
Wood's  Essay  was  the  first  important  statement  of  its 
general  tenor.  The  matter  stands  thus.  Certain  Ger- 
man theologians,  adopting  principles  which,  in  regard 
to  Homer,  Wolff  has  rendered  it  difficult  to  controvert, 
have  applied  them  to  tfie  sacred  records,  (of  the  Old 
Testament.)  and  arrived  at  the  same  conclusions.  Be- 
lieving themselves  to  have  j)roved  that  the  art  of  wri- 
tino"  was  unknown  at  the  tmje  when  many  of  these 
books  were  penned,  and  that  they  descended  from  one 
generation  to  another  only  through  the  medium  of  oral 
tradition,  they  infei',  that  such  a  traditionary  preserva- 
tion is  irreconcileable,  from  its  very  nature,  with  the 
continued  authenticity  and  purity  of  the  text.  "  Your 
bishops,"  says  Wolff,  "  know  this ;  they  are  sharp 
enou2'h  to  see  the  consequences  which  must  follow,  if 
the  princi[)les  be  once  admitted,  and,  therefore,  they 
proscribe  my  prolegomena."  Yet  the  prolegomena 
have  been  reprinted  in  one  of  the  university  editions 
(T  fhink  th^^  OAfoid)  of  Ernc&U's  Homer!  But  he  is 
by  no  iiif^ans  the  only  distinguished  and  learned  person 
among  his  countrymen  who  has  strangle  notions  regard- 
irio-  our  condition,  and  modes  of  thinking  and  acting. 
An  erudite  professor  of  Jena  believed  Scotland  to  be  a 
Cattiollc  country  ;  and  one  of  the  most  distinguished  of 

*  The  Essai  sur  la  question^  si  Homere  a  connu  V Usage  de  VEcri- 
ticre^  et  si  les  deux  Poemes  de  VUiade  et  de  POdyssee  sont  en  enfier  de 
lui  is  an  excellent  epitome  of  the  whole  discussion.  It  is  by  M. 
Fran9e«^on,  a  French  grammarian  of  Berlin.  I  have  heard  Wolff 
himself  speak  of  it  in  terms  of  high  approbation. 


THE  PRESS.  287 

the  sa£fes  of  Goftingen,  when  explaining  to  his  class  the 
term  Post  Captain^  as  used  in  the  British  Navy,  told 
them,  that  it  meant, the  captain  of  a  Post  Ship,  a  ship 
that  carried  the  \Jail. 

Thouglj  B(!rlln  is  full  of  scientific  and  literary  merit, 
the  people  in  getieral  are  not  great  readers,  and  what 
they  do  read  has  previously  heen  purified  in  the  fur- 
nace of  the  censorship.  In  the  depari merit  of  jour- 
nals, few  things  are  more  dull,  stale,  and  unprofiiahle, 
than  the  newspapers  ol  Berlin;  their  public  politics 
are  necessarily  all  on  one  side,  and  even  on  that  side, 
thej  seldom  indulge  in  original  writing,  or  venture  be- 
yond an  extract  from  the  Austrian  Observer;  but  they 
give  most  minute  details  of  plays  and  operas,  concerts 
and  levees.  Voss's  Journal  is  the  best  of  them  even 
in  political  matters  ;  and  it  has  a  wide  circulation  out 
of  Prussia,  for  its  literary  and  critical  articles  are  fre- 
quently written  with  very  considerable  talent.  A  few 
years  ago,  M.  Benzenberg,  a  Prussian  from  the  Rhine, 
published  a  book  "On  the  administration  of  the  Chan- 
cellor Prince  Hardenberg,"  in  a  style  altogether  new 
among  the  despotic  states  of  Germany.  It  examined 
the  various  measures  of  tlie  ministry,  eulogized  the  ge- 
neral spirit  of  Improvement  in  which  they  had  pro- 
ceeded, and  especially  laboured  to  sliow  how  necessa- 
rily all  those  preparative  changes  must  lead  to  the 
great  consummation,  the  introduction  of  popular  forms 
of  government.  It  was  he  who  said,  that  Hardenberg 
had  revolutionized  more,  and  more  successfully,  in  six 
days,  than  the  French  Convention  had  done  in  two 
years.  The  censor  never  hesitated  to  license  the  book, 
notwithstanding  its  evident  tendency  ;  but  the  aristo- 
cracy, and  some  foreign  cabinets,  were  thrown  into  a 
panic,  that  the  confidential  minister  of  the  Kiiig  of 
rrussla  should  be  represented  as  capable  of  doing 
things  which,  by  any  possibility,  could  be  styled  revolu- 
tionizing. Alarms  were  scattered,  remonstrances  were 
made,  and  the  minister  found  it    prudent,   at   least,  to 


288  BERLIN. 

disclaim  all  connection  with  the  author.  The  book 
was  anonymous,  although,  in  Berlin,  it  was  well  known 
who  had  written  it.  Benjamin  Constant  immediately 
printed  a  translation  or  epitome  of  it  in  Pnris,  under 
the  title  of,  "  The  Triumph  of  Liberal  Opinions  in 
Prussia,"  and  it  ascribed  to  a  gentleman  who  held  a 
subordinate  office  in  one  of  the  departments  of  the 
Prussian  ministry.  This  person,  in  the  utmost  trepi- 
dation, immediately  inserted  in  the  public  papers,  a 
much  more  anxious  disclaimer,  than  most  Germans 
would  do  if  charged  vvitfi  sorcery  or  atheism. 

Yet  every  one  who  knows  the  two  countries  must 
allow,  that  the  censorship  is  exercised  in  Prussia  with 
much  more  liberality  of  sentiment  than  in  Austria;  and 
that  it  must  be  so,  because,  in  the  former,  there  is  much 
more  knowledge.  The  Prussian  government  knows 
that,  if  its  subjects  learn  and  reason,  though  they  may 
wish  for  more,  they  will  recognize  all  the  good  which 
has  yet  been  done  ;  the  Austrian  governmfmt  knows 
that,  if  it  were  possible  to  bring  its  subjects  to  learn 
and  think,  they  would  find  it  had  been  going  back- 
wards since  the  days  of  Joseph  and  Leopold.  The 
reign  of  Frederick  the  Great  accustomed  the  Prussians 
to  almost  unrestrained  freedom  of  writing,  above  all, 
if  they  could  write  French,  and  write  like  Frenchmen. 
His  successor  was  more  strict,  for  in  the  conduct  of 
his  government  there  was  much  which  lay  open  to  at- 
tack. The  present  king  began  his  reign  in  an  honest 
and  liberal  spirit  j"^  and,  although  more    recent  events, 

*  There  are  some  signal  instances  of  the  willingness  with  which 
he  saw  the  journals  point  out  mal-adrainisiration  in  public  ser- 
vants. A  Westphalian  newspaper  had  complained  loudly  against 
the  administrators  of  the  royal  domains,  for  allowing  a  certain 
bridge  to  remain  in  a  state  of  decay,  which  rendered  it  dangerous. 
The  Domainen-Kammer^  a  College  entru-ted  with  the  manag-enr;eftt 
of  the  domains,  complained  to  the  king  of  this  licentious  interfe- 
rence with  the  affairs  of  government,  and  demanded  the  punish- 
ment of  the  transgressor.  The  king's  rescript  was  in  an  excellent 
spirit.    "  All  depends  on   the   circumstance,   whether  the  com- 


THE  PRESS.  589 

and,  still  more,  the  inlluencc  of  other  monarchs,  have 
given  the  censorship  a  more  searching  activity  than  it 
once  displayed  under  Frederick  WiUiam,  it  would  be 
unjust  to  deny  that  the  Prussian  press  is  far  more  in- 
dulgently treated  than  that  which  exists  under  any 
other  despotic  government  in  Europe.  To  the  finan- 
cial state  and  arrangements  of  the  country,  the  amount 
of  the  debt,  the  means  for  meeting  it,  and  the  amount 
of  the  different  branches  of  public  expenditure,  the  ut- 
most publicity  has  been  given  ;  and  the  first  compte 
rendu  of  this  kind  which  Hardenberg  issued,  excited  no 
small  apprehensions  in  some  other  German  govern- 
ments, lest  it  should  turn  out  to  be  a  bad  and  infectious 
example.  These  financial  arrangements,  the  institu- 
tions which  may  still  be  acting  prejudicially  on  indus- 
try, the  defects  in  the  administration  of  justice,  and 
how  they  may  be  avoided,  are  all  frequent  subjects  of 
discussion  in  pamphlets  and  periodicals.  Although 
Benzenberg's  work  on  the  spirit  of  the  administration 
excited  much  hatred  and  alarm  among  many  powerful 
persons  at  home,  and  some  powerful  cabinets  abroad, 
nothing  was  done  either  against  the  book  or  its  author. 
The  nobility,  instead  of  suppressing  and  punishing,  were 
compelled  to  answer;  and,  though  it  be  melancholy 
that  one  of  their  number  should  have  answered  by 
preaching  very  degrading  doctrines,  it  is  encoura2:ing 
that  they  had  to  answer  with  the  pen,  not    with  gens 

plaints  made  in  the  journal  are  well  founded  or  not.  If  they  are, 
you  ought  rather  to  thank  the  author,  than  expose  him  to  inconve- 
nience ;  if  they  are  groundless,  then,  if  you  do  not  choose  to  cor- 
rect the  erroneous  statement,  which  in  every  respect  would  be 
the  better  way,  you  must  proceed  against  him  regularly  in  a  court 
of  justice.  If  a  proper  degree  of  publicity  were  refused,  there 
would  remain  no  means  of  discovering  the  negligence  or  faithless- 
ness of  public  servants.  This  publicity  is  the  best  security,  both 
for  the  government  and  the  public,  against  the  carelessness  or 
wicked  designs  of  the  mferior  authorities,  and  deserves  to  be  en- 
couraged and  protected.  In  the  meantime,  1  hope  that  the  dispute 
will  not  make  you  forget  the  thing  itself,  viz.  the  repairing  the 
bridge.     Berlin,  Feb.  20,  1804" 

37 


290  BERLIN. 

/^Z"fe  d'armes  and  state-prisons.  Wettwe,  a  Professor  of  the 
University,  had  represented  Sand  as  a  martyr  in  a  good 
cause,  or,  if  misled,  as  having  been  guilty  of  only  a  very 
trivial  error.  Nobody,  surely,  will  find  fault  with  the 
Prussian  government  for  dismissing  from  a  station 
which  entrusted  him  with  the  education  of  youth,  a 
man  who  could  propagate  such  a  belief  about  such  a 
deed.  The  Professor  retired  to  Weimar,  and  the 
Weimar  Oppositions-Blatt  immediately  sounded  the 
alarm  against  Prussian  oppression.  The  affair  attrac- 
ted notice  ;  bui  Hardenberg,  instead  of  attempting  to 
crush  the  man,  or  silence  the  paper,  transmitted  to  the 
editor  a  copy  of  the  Professor's  letter  (to  Sand's  mo- 
ther, I  believe)  which  had  occasioned  his  dismissal, 
with  a  request  that  it  should  be  inserted  in  his  journal 
as  soon  as  possible. 

In  1815  and  1816,  when  the  alarms  entertained  con- 
cerning the  designs  of  private  political  societies  were 
at  their  height,  and  retarded,  or  were  made  the  pre- 
tence for  retarding  the  introduction  of  pohtical  changes, 
the  lively  war  carried  on  from  the  press  between  the 
liberals  and  their  opponents  was  a  phenomenon  in  Ger- 
many. It  was  downright  licentiousness  of  the  [)ress, 
compared  with  what  would  have  been  allowed  in  Aus- 
tria or  Russia;  audi  alteram  partem  had  a  meaning, 
and  a  practical  effect;  the  two  parties  railed,  sneered 
at,  and  misrepresented  each  other,  as  if  they  had  been 
trained  to  public  polemics  from  their  youth.  The  go- 
vernment, to  be  sure,  w^ent  wrong  at  last ;  because,  in- 
•  stead  of  allowing  the  angry  opponents  to  bluster  them- 
selves out,  it  imposed  silence  on  both,  by  ordering  the 
censor  not  to  allow  another  syllable  to  be  printed 
about  the  matter  on  either  side.  How  many  furious 
answers  were  published  to  Schmalz's  furious  book 
against  the  private  societies,  real  or  imaginary  !  Schraalz, 
indeed,  was  honoured  with  the  decoration  of  the  order 
of  Civil  Merit ;  and  it  would  be  strange  if  an  absolute 
sovereign  did  not  bestow  his  favours  on  those  who  de- 


ADMINISTRATION  OF  JUSTICE.  291 

fended,  rather  than  on  those  who  attacked  his  prero- 
gative ;  but  a  great  deal  has  been  gained,  when  the 
censor  of  such  a  sovereign  allows  such  books  to  be 
printed,  and,  in  putting  a  stop  to  the  combat,  does  it 
by  ordering  both  parties  to  sheath  their  weapons,  after 
they  have  tried  their  mutual  prowess. 

The  administration  of  justice,  which,  when  taken  in 
all  its  bearings,  is  the  most  important  of  all  social  con- 
cerns, bears  a  high  character  in  Prussia.  Not  only  in 
the  monarchy  itself,  but  among  well  informed  men  in 
the  other  states,  it  is  generally  allowed,  that,  nowhere 
in  the  countries  of  the  Confederation,  is  it  more  pure 
and  independent.  The  Professor  of  Public  Law  in 
a  neighbouring  University,  who  had  himself  spent  the 
best  part  of  his  life  as  a  judge  in  Prussia,  while  he  de- 
nounced its  government  to  me  as  jealous  and  illiberal, 
described  its  judicial  establishments  as  the  most  trust- 
worthy in  Germany.  The  judges  of  the  higher  courts 
are  independent  of  the  higher  powers.  They  are 
more  than  reputable  persons  in  point  of  talent,  and  are 
sufficiently  well  paid  to  place  ordinarily  moral  men 
above  the  necessity  of  polluting  their  office,  to  grasp  at 
unworthy  gains;  nothing  can  place  unprincipled  ava- 
rice beyond  the  reach  of  temptation.  During  the  pe- 
riod of  the  Prussian  radical  alarms,  many  would  have 
been  brought  to  trial  besides  Jahn  ;  but  the  court  had 
shown  so  refractory  a  spirit  to  the  arbitrary  adminis- 
tration of  the  police  law,  that  only  acquittals  could  be 
looked  for.  Nobody  thinks  of  denying,  that  the  Prus- 
sian courts  are  pure  and  upright  in  matters  of  civil 
right,  even  where  the  crown  is  opposed  to  an  indivi- 
dual ;  but,  in  political  matters,  the  benefit  which  might 
result  from  tribunals  that  are  independent  where  they 
do  judge,  is  in  a  great  measure  nullified,  by  the  power 
of  the  government  to  prevent  the  tribunals  from  inter- 
fering. I  never  heard  of  any  provision,  by  which  a 
man  imprisoned  for  sedition,  for  example,  could  claim 
the  protection  of  the  courts,  and  insist  upon  a  final  in- 


292  BERLIN. 

vestlgation,  however  certain  he  might  be  that  these 
courts  would  do  equal  justice;  and,  if  he  should  be  ac- 
quitted bj  the  judges,  I  know  nothing  to  prevent  a 
jealous  and  dissatisfied  ministry  from  still  detaining  him 
in  his  dungeon.  Salus  reiptiblicae  siiprema  lex  may  be 
a  necessary  rule  in  all  forms  of  government ;  but  where 
the  definition  of  the  salus  reipublicae  depends  on  the 
views  and  wishes  of  the  executive  alone,  even  the  pur- 
est institutions  are  liable  every  moment  to  be  paralyz- 
ed, and  the  integrity  of  the  most  independent  judges 
to  be  rendered  nugatory.  I  once  heard  a  Saxon  pro- 
fessor, when  entering  on  the  subject  of  police  law,  ad- 
dress his  class  thus  :  "  We  now  come  to  that  precious 
thing  called  police  law,  such  as  it  may  be  found  in  a 
Code  de  la  Gendarmerie.  It  is  best  and  most  briefly 
defined  to  be,  the  absence  of  all  law ;  because  it  de- 
pends entirely  on  the  arbitrary  discretion  of  a  single 
power  acknowledging  no  guide  but  its  own  imagined 
security,  and  consists  essentially  in  the  privilege  of  dis- 
regarding and  superseding  all  law,  without  being  re- 
sponsible, except  to  the  same  arbitrary  discretion  which 
creates  it." 

But  the  Prussian  capital  contains  an  open  court  of 
justice,  a  rarity  in  Germany.  The  supreme  court  of 
appeal  of  the  Rhenish  provinces  sits  in  Berlin;  and, as 
these  provinces  still  retain  the  Code  Napoleon,  its  pro- 
ceedings are  public :  but  so  small  is  the  interest  taken 
in  such  matters,  that  the  decent  rows  of  benches  in 
the  apartment  where  the  court  meets,  are  left  to  the 
undisturbed  possession  of  the  dust,  except  when  a 
crowd  is  attracted  by  some  case  which  has  set  the 
world  by  the  ears  out  of  doors.  It  is  only  a  court  of 
review,  but  its  jurisdiction  is  criminal  as  well  as  civil- 
There  is  neither  pomp  nor  bustle.  In  an  apartment, 
up  tw^o  pair  of  stairs,  seven  gentlemen,  dressed  in 
black,  were  seated  round  a  curved  table ;  the  Presi- 
dent was  distinguishable  only  by  sitting  in  the  middle, 
for,  thouffh  he  wore  an  order  in  his  button  hole,  some 


ADMINISTRATION  OF  JUSTICE.  293 

of  the  other  judges  had  the  same  decoration.  On  his 
right  sat  Prolessor  Sav  igny,  whom  fame  styles  the  first 
civilian  of  Germany,  with  his  long,  smooth,  glossy  hair 
hanging  down  some  what  after  the  student  fashion. 
No  wigs,  no  robes  ;  no  imposing  accumulation  of  curl 
above,  and  no  ample  folds  of  scarlet,  or  patches  of  er- 
mine below;  there  sat  the  supreme  judges  of  the 
Rhenish  provinces,  publicly  administering  justice  in 
their  own  hair  and  every-day  dresses.*  A  criminal 
appeal  was  heard.  The  appellant's  counsel,  he,  too, 
wigless  and  gownless,  in  black  breeches  and  white  cot- 
ton stockings,  stated  his  reasons  of  appeal  in  a  speech 
of  half  an  hour.  He  spoke  with  considerable  fluency 
and  energy,  but  the  argument  was  too  much  involved 
in  technicalities  to  be  easily  understood  by  a  foreigner. 
The  judges  were  most  attentive.  The  opposing  coun- 
sel, apparently  a  much  more  helpless  man  in  this  mode 
of  discussion,  made  his  reply  in  half  a  minute.  He 
held  out  towards  the  judges  a  huge  manuscript,  and 
merely  said,  "  I  am  not  going  to  say  any  thing  at  all ; 
for  you  have  already  had  in  writing  all  that  I  would 
wish  to  say,  and  I  doubt  not  but  you  have  carefully 
perused  it."  The  Referendary  then  mounted  a  pul- 
pit at  one  corner  of  the  bench,  read,  from  a  manu- 
script, his  own  view  of  the  case,  and  stated  his  conclu- 
sions, which  were  in  favour  of  the  appellant.  When 
he  had  finished,  the  judges  all  at  once  disappeared 
through  a  door  behind  the  bench;  they  returned,  after 
an  absence  of  fifteen  minutes,  wdiich  had  been  spent  in 
deliberation,  and  the  president,  without  giving  a  sylla- 
ble of  observation  or  explanation,  announced  the  judg- 
ment of  the  court,  rejecting  the  appeal,  and  confirming 
the  sentence  of  the  inferior  tribunal.     Thus,  neither  the 

*  Professor  Hornthal,  of  Friburg-,  in  the  notes  to  his  German 
translation  ofM.  Cottu's  book  on  the  administration  of  justice  in 
England,  says  of  German  judges,  "They  are  accustomed  to  go  into 
court  in  a  dress  in  which  they  would  be  ashamed  to  appear  in  a 
drawing-room." 


294  BERLIN. 

opinions  of  any  one  judge,  nor  the  grounds  on  which  the 
decision  of  the  court  proceeds,  are  known;  the  plead- 
ings and  the  judgment  are  pubhc,  but  the  deliberations 
and  opinions  of  the  judges  are  private.  Every  body 
knows,  or  may  know,  what  the  parties  have  to  say  for 
themselves;  but  nobody  can  know  what  the  judges 
have  to  say  for  themselves.  You  know  that  a  man 
has  been  hanged,  while  he  argued,  and,  if  he  had  a 
clever  counsel,  argued  perhaps  to  the  satisfaction  of 
all  except  the  judges,  that  he  could  not  legally  be 
hanged;  but  whether  he  was  in  reality  legally  hanged, 
is  left  to  that  disposition  which  is  the  evidence  of 
things  not  seen. 

Thus  the  citizens  of  Berlin  see  justice  administered 
to  their  fellow  subjects  of  the  Rhine  provinces  with  a 
publicity  which  has  not  yet  been  granted  to  them- 
selves. Rhine-Prussia  enjoys  another  superiority  in 
possessing  trial  by  jury  in  all  criminal  matters.  The 
institution  was  introduced  among  them  when  they 
were  made  part  of  the  French  empire,  and,  on  their 
restoration  to  the  Prussian  monarchy,  the  king  consent- 
ed to  the  continuance  of  the  new  forms  of  jurispru- 
dence. But,  unless  the  powers  of  their  Attorney-Ge- 
nerals be  more  strictly  defined ;  unless  their  jurors  be 
more  inviolably  preserved  against  the  influence  of 
newspaper  writers  and  pamphleteers,  who  discuss  the 
question  of  guilt  or  innocence,  before  the  man  has 
been  brought  to  trial ;  and,  above  all,  unless  their 
rules  of  evidence  be  brought  to  a  more  strict  accord- 
ance with  common  justice  and  common  sense,  jury 
trial,  in  those  provinces  of  the  Prussian  monarchy,  Avill 
be  an  instrument  of  outrageous  oppression  just  as  fre- 
quently as  of  protection.  As  illustrative  of  the  inabili- 
ty of  jury  trial,  when  not  accompanied  by  other  pre- 
cautions, to  confer  social  security,  it  may  be  worth 
while  to  record  the  case  of  Mr.  Fonk,  which  was 
keeping  Cologne  in  an  uproar,  when  I  visited  that  city 
in  1822.     Some  disputes  had  arisen  between  this  gen* 


ADMINISTRATION  OF  JUSTICE.  29& 

tlemari,  a  most  respectable  njerchant,  and  his  partner, 
who  resided   in  the  counti'y,  relative  to  the  settlement 
of   accounts   on    the    dissolution  ot    their    copartnery. 
The   partner   takes  it  into    his  head,  that  a  balance  so 
unfavourable   to  himselt"  mav  have    been    brought  out 
by  subjecting    the  books  to   some  undue    process,   and 
sends  in  an  accountant  to  examine  them.     The  neces- 
sary books,   and  the  original    vouchers,  are    submitted 
to  him;  no   trace  of  fraud   or  falsification    is  discover- 
ed ;   the    partner    him-^elf  comes    to   town,   and,    at    a 
meeting  in  Mr.  Fonk's  house,  at  which  the  accountant 
is  present,  a   final    arrangement    is  agreed  upon.     The 
accountant  and  his  employer  leave  Fonk's  house  about 
eight  o'clock  on  a  Saturday  evening    in  November,  re- 
turn to  their  inn,  and  sup  with  an  acquaintai»ce.     When 
this  acquaintance  goes   away,   at   ten  o'clock,   the  ac- 
countant accompanies  him  as  far  as  the  market  place, 
there  leaves  him,   returns   in  the  direction  of  the  inn, 
and  is  never   again  seen,    till,   two   months  afterwards, 
the  ice   upon  the    Rhine   breaks  up,   and  his  corpse  is 
floated    ashore    on  a  meadow  inundated   by   the   river. 
Some   marks  upon    the  body    lead    to  a  suspicion    that 
he    has  been   murdered   and    thrown  into  the    Rhine. 
The  public,  taking  the  murder  for  granted,  and  unable 
to  discover   that  any  other    person   had   an   'nterest  in 
taking  his  life,  accuse  Mr.  Fonk  of  having  perpetrated 
the    crime,  to    prevent  him   from  disclosing  to  his  em- 
ployer  the    falsifications    which   he    had    discovered  in 
the  books,    though   no  falsification   existed,    though  all 
that  the    accountant  had  to  disclose  had    been  already 
disclosed,   and  a  final  settlement  of  matters    had  been 
agreed    on.     The   affair   immediately    becomes   a   hot 
party   dispute.     Mr.  Sand,   the   Advocate-General,  or, 
as  \we  would  style   him,  the  Attorney-General,  applies 
for  a  warrant  to  arrest  Mr.  Fonk,  and  put  him  upon  his 
trial.     The  Judge  of  Instruction,   who  discharges,  in 
some  measure,  the  functions  of  a  grand  jury,  refuses 
to  take  such  a  step  on  mere  indefinite,   unauthorized 


296  BERLIN. 

rumour,  and,  from  this  moment,  the  Attorney-General 
proceeds  with  the  ardour  and  partiality  of  a  partisan. 
It  may  be,  that  he  was  convinced  of  the  guilt  of  the 
individual ;  but  the  press  did  not  hesitate  to  ascribe 
his  zeal  to  very  different  motives,  and  it  certainly  mis- 
led him  into  conduct  which  mere  official  duty  could 
not  suggest,  and  cannot  justify.* 

Mr.  Fonk  had,  in  his  service,  a  cooper  of  the  name 
of  Hamacher ;  and  the  believers  in  the  guilt  of  the 
former,  with  the  law  officers  at  their  head,  think  it 
probable  that  this  man  may  have  been  privy  to  the 
murder.  He  is  apprehended,  and  consigned  to  the 
most  unhealthy  dungeon  which  the  prison  can  furnish  ; 
no  person,  except  the  instruments  of  the  police,  is  per- 
mitted to  visit  him.  He  is  allowed  one  companion,  a 
condemned  robber.  This  miscreant  receives  instruc- 
tions to  keep  by  him  day  and  night,  and  to  allow  him 
no  repose  till  he  consent  to  confess.  He  executes 
these  orders  excellently  well ;  he  prevails  on  the 
cooper  to  write  letters  to  his  wife,  which  he  himself 
engages  to  find  means  of  conveying  to  her,  and  then 
delivers  them  to  the  police,  by  whom  this  ingenious 
device  had  been  suggested.  He  is  allowed,  as  an  in- 
dulgence, to  receive  the  visits  of  his  wife,  but  police 
officers  are  privately   stationed  to  overhear    their  con- 

*  It  was  long  supposed,  and  is  still  asserted,  that  the  murder 
was  probably  committed  in  a  brothel,  where  Ciinen  (the  account- 
ant) was  in  the  habit  of  visiting  an  Italian  prostitute,  who  left  the 
town  shortly  afterwards,  and  could  not  be  traced.  The  evidence 
on  the  trial  gave  no  countenance  to  such  a  conjecture  ;  but  it  was 
maintained  from  the  press,  that  the  Attorney-General  was  sacrific- 
ing Fonk  to  screen  this  girl,  who,  it  was  alleged,  had  formerly 
been  his  mistress — and  it  must  be  matter  of  surprise  to  most  peo- 
ple, that  the  press  was  allowed  to  make  so  free  with  the  first  law 
officer  of  his  Prussian  Majesty.  Nay,  the  Attorney-General  was 
called  upon  the  trial,  and,  after  a  very  serious  admonition  from  the 
presiding  judge,  was  examined  as  to  the  particulars  of  his  connec- 
tion with  that  unworthy  person,  though  there  was  not  a  particle 
of  evidence  to  connect  her  with  the  fate  of  the  deceased — such  is 
the  laxity  of  their  law  of  evidence ! 


ADMINISTRATION  OF  JUSTICE.  297 

versation ;  while,  at  the  same  time,  every  mean  i» 
used  to  irritate  him  against  his  master  by  false  repre- 
sentations that  the  latter  is  publicly  accusing  him  of 
the  murder.  After  he  has  been  subj('Cted  for  some 
months  to  this  moral  torture,  allured  by  [)romises,  and 
exposed  to  the  a»"ts  of  a  wily  police,  the  courage  of 
the  man,  as  one  party  calls  it,  or  his  obstinacy,  as  the 
other  party  terms  it,  begins  to  waver;  and  so  soon  as 
he  shows  an  inclination  to  yieltl,  he  is  removed  to  a 
more  comfortable  prison.  The  Attorney-General,  who 
has  hitherto  acted  chiefly  behind  the  curtain,  novr 
comes  forward  upon  the  stage.  He  sends  bottles  of 
Rhenish  to  the  prisoner;  and  this  representative  of 
the  King  of  Prussia,  in  the  administration  of  criminal 
justice,  does  not  blush  to  spend  evening  after  evening 
in  the  cell  of  this  suspected  murderer,  drinking  wine 
with  him,  and  arranging  the  confession  over  the  bottle. 
After  the  study  of  some  weeks,  forth  comes  the  con- 
fession, not  brought  out  at  once,  but  gradually  put  to- 
gether, revised,  jointed,  and  polished  by  these  two 
worthies,  and  emitted,  for  the  first  time,  before  a  ma- 
gistrate, only  after  they  have  thus  put  it  into  a  mar- 
ketable shape. 

Without  entering  into  the  details  of  this  precious 
document,  the  manner  in  which  it  was  concocted,  and 
the  use  to  which  it  was  applied,  are  sufficient  for  all  I 
have  in  view  in  relating  this  melancholy  story.  The 
amount  of  it  was,  that,  on  the  Saturday  evening  on 
which  the  accountant  disappeared,  he  returned  to 
Fonk's  house,  between  ten  and  eleven  o'clock — for 
what  purpose  not  even  the  cooper  and  Attorney-Gene- 
ral ever  pretended  to  conjecture;  that  Mr.  Fonk  took 
him  into  the  spirit-cellar,  under  pretence  of  showing 
him  some  brandy,  there  murdered  him,  with  the  as- 
sistance of  the  cooper,  partly  by  strangling  him,  partly 
by  striking  him  on  the  head  with  a  piece  of  iron,  and 
packed  the  body  into  a  cask,  in  which  it  remained  in 
the  cellar  till  Monday  morning,  when  a  man  was  pro- 
^     38 


298  BERLIN. 

cured  with  a  horse  and  cart,  who  conveyed  it  from 
the  cltj,  a  few  miles  down  the  Rhine;  that  the  coop- 
er then  took  it  out  of  the  cask,  tied  a  stone  round  the 
knees,  and  threw  it  into  the  river.  It  farther  bore, 
that  Fonk  had  previously  proposed  the  murder  to  him 
more  than  once,  but  that  his  honest  conscience  had  in- 
dignantly rejected  the  atrocious  design  ;  yet,  at  last, 
though,  according  to  his  own  story,  he  was  only  unex- 
pectedly present,  with  his  honest  conscience,  at  the 
perpetration  of  the  crime,  he  bears  as  stout  and  will- 
ing a  hand  in  the  deed,  as  if  he  had  been  a  hired  as- 
sassin. While  the  manufacture  of  the  confession  was 
going  on,  he  was  heard  to  say  on  one  occasion,  when 
the  Advocate-General  had  left  him,  after  a  long  tip- 
pling conversation,  ''We  shall  soon  be  ready  now; 
for  we  have  agreed,  at  last,  who  Ishall  say  carried 
away  the  dead  body." 

No  sooner  is  this  more  than  supicious  confession 
made  known,  than  two  parties  are  formed  in  Cologne, 
nearly  equal  in  numbers,  and  entirely  so  in  prejudice 
and  violence.  The  one  party  disbelieves  the  whole 
story,  and  expatiates,  with  much  reason,  on  the  inex- 
plicable, they  even  venture  to  say,  the  criminal  manner 
in  which  it  has  been  manufactured;  while  the  other 
maintains  that  this  declaration  is  worthy  of  all  accep- 
tation, both  against  the  maker  of  it,  and  against  his 
master,  and,  as  a  motive  for  the  crime,  they  still  speak 
darkly  of  some  unintelligible  falsification  of  the  books. 
All  at  once,  they  are  startled  by  the  decision  of  the 
arbiters  who  had  been  appointed  to  examine  the  books 
and  accounts  of  the  copartnery,  and  discover  those 
supposed  falsifications  on  which  alone  the  whole  theo- 
ry of  Fonk's  guilt  rested.  He  himself  had  named  the 
first  merchant  of  Cologne  in  character,  wealth,  and 
mercantile  skill;  his  adversary  had  named  his  most 
prejudiced  and  indefatigable  enemy,  the  Advocate- 
General  himself.  These  gentlemen,  however,  give  an 
award  which  does  not  merely  establish  the  absence  of 


ADMINISTRATION  OF  JU STICK.  299 

any  falsification,  but  proves,  that,  instead  of  Foiik  be- 
ing a  fraudulent  debtor  to  his  partner,  that  partner  is 
debtor  to  him.  To  complete  the  confusion  of  tiie  par- 
ty, the  servant,  too,  retracts  Ins  confossion,  declaring, 
before  a  magistrate,  that  it  had  been  fabricated  solely 
to  procure  some  alleviation  of  the  miseries  which  he 
endured  in  prison,  and  seduced  into  it,  as  he  was,  by 
the  urgent  representations  of  those  placed  about  him. 
On  this,  private  interviews  again  take  place  between 
him  and  the  higher  powers,  and  fie  again  adiieres  to  his 
confession;  then,  when  left  to  himself  for  a  while,  he 
retracts  it  a  second  time,  and  to  that  retraction  he  has 
remained  constant  till  this  hour.  He  is  no  longer  use- 
ful, and,  therefore,  no  longer  deserves  mercy.  He  is 
brought  to  trial,  and,  on  the  retracted  confession,  is 
convicted  of  having  aided  in  the  murder,  and  comdenin- 
ed  to  imprisonment  for  life;  for  so  craftily  was  the  de- 
claration put  together,  that  it  made  him  appear  only  as 
an  accidental,  and  almost  an  unwilling  assistant  in  the 
crime. 

Armed  with  this  verdict,  the  Advocate-General  re- 
turns to  the  attack,  and  Mr.  Fonk  is  at  last  put  upon 
his  trial.  Now  the  paper  war  between  the  parties  rises 
to  fury;  pamphlets,  and  newspaper  articles,  attacking 
or  defending  the  accused,  and  teeming  with  tl  e  partial- 
ity and  virulence  of  faction,  are  poured  forth  in  Hoods; 
the  most  important  political  question  would  not  excite 
half  the  discord  and  party  violence  that  were  spread 
far  and  wide  by  the  approaching  decision  of  a  matter 
of  life  and  death,  and  that,  too,  among  those  very  n)en 
from  whom  the  jurors  were  to  be  taken.  The  trial 
(which  took  place  at  Treves)  lasted  nearly  six  weeks; 
in  England,  it  would  not  have  lasted  six  hours.  There 
was  no  evidence  that  the  man  had  been  murdered  at 
all.  The  medical  witnesses  disputed  and  quarrelled 
with  each  other,  three  live-long  days,  before  the  court 
and  the  jury;  they  read  long  manuscript  essays,  and 
made  long  medical  speeches,  in  defence  of  ihcir  oppo- 


300  BERLIN. 

site  opinions,  as  if  they  had  been  pleading  the  cause. 
The  country  doctors  were  quite  certain  that  the 
wounds  on  the  head  had  occasioned  death,  and  had 
been  inflicted  before  the  body  was  thrown  into  the 
water;  the  Professor  of  Anatomy  in  the  university  of 
Marburg  was  just  as  positive  that  only  a  fool  or  a 
knave  could  maintain  that  such  wounds  must  occasion 
death,  and  must  have  been  inflicted  on  dry  land,  con-* 
sidering  that  the  body  had  been  so  long  tossed  about 
among  the  loose  floating  ice  on  the  Rhine.  Many 
other  witnesses  were  called,  but,  except  that  they 
went  far  to  establish  an  alibi  in  favour  of  the  prisoner, 
they  proved  nothing  that  was  of  much  moment  on 
either  side.  The  whole  question  turned  upon  the 
cooper's  confession,  and  it  actually  was  received  as  evi- 
dence, in  spite  of  tlie  resistance  of  the  prisoner's  coun- 
sel. Although  it  was  allowed,  that  as  the  person  who 
had  made  it  stood  convicted  of  an  infamous  crime,  he 
could  not  be  heard  to  confirm  the  same  story  on  oath, 
in  presence  of  the  court,  yet  it  was  sent  to  the  jury 
when  only  written,  not  made  in  their  presence,  not 
upon  oath,  and  judicially  retracted.  The  man  himself 
was  brought  forward,  and  repeated  his  final  retraction 
to  the  jury,  declaring  the  whole  story  to  be  a  fabrica- 
tion, and  entreating  the  judges,  with  tears  in  his  eyes, 
not  to  receive  it.  But  to  the  jury  it  did  go;  and,  as 
was  to  be  expected  from  the  indecent  virulence  with 
which  the  matter  had  so  long  been  discussed  out  of 
doors,  the  pride  and  prejudice  of  faction  had  found 
their  way  into  the  jury  box.  Will  it  be  believed,  that 
on  this  declaiation  of  a  condemned  malefactor,  not  given 
before  the  jury,  but  taken  out  of  court  years  before, 
retracted  and  contradicted  before  the  court  by  the 
very  man  who  made  it,  procured  by  arts,  and  manu- 
factured by  a  process  of  which  enough  was  known  to 
render  the  whole  more  than  suspicious,  a  majority, 
though  a  narrow  majority,  of  the  jury  convicted  a  re- 
spectable  fellow-citizen   of   a  deliberate   and   utterly 


ADMINISTRATION  OF  JUSTICE.  301 

causeless  murder?  What  sort  of  justice  could  any  par- 
ty hope  for  from  such  juries  in  the  stru<i:gles  of  politi- 
cal factions?  Really  the  despotic  Prussian  government 
alone  showed  any  regard  to  justice  in  this  Icng  train  of 
calamity.  If  it  did  not  inteifere  with  the  strange  con- 
duct of  its  own  law  ofiiceis,  this  arose  from  a  laudable 
feeling  of  delicacy.  Considering  the  hostile  feeling 
towards  Prussia  which  exists  in  the  Rhenish  provinces, 
and  the  rapidity  with  which  this  question  nad  been 
made  a  party  dispute,  any  inleiference  of  government 
would  have  been  considered  an  arbitrary  disregard 
of  the  more  liberal  forms  of  Rhenish  justice.  The 
government,  therefore,  allowed  the  law  to  take  its  own 
course  in  its  own  way  ;  but,  so  soon  as  the  appeal  founded 
on  points  of  law  (lor  the  verdict  is  final  as  to  the  ques- 
tion of  fact)  had  been  dismissed  by  the  supreme  court, 
orders  were  sent  down  frijm  Berlin  to  institute  a  judicial 
inquiry  into  the  conduct  of  the  police  throughout  the 
whole  affair,  and  a  free  pardon  was  granted  to  both 
prisoners. 

The  law  of  evidence  that  admits  such  materials,  and 
the  men  whom  the  practice  of  the  law  thus  teaches 
to  look  upon  them  as  legitimate  grounds  of  judgment, 
are  equally  enemies  to  the  caution  and  purity  of  crim- 
inal justice.  Tribunals  accustomed  to  act  in  this  man- 
ner cannot  expect  that  iheir  decisions  will  be  respect- 
ed;  scarcely  was  the  verdict  pronounced,  when  peti- 
tions, signed  by  numbers  of  the  inhabitants  of  Cologne, 
were  sent  otF  to  Berlin,  not  praying  for  a  pardon  as  a 
grace,  but  arraigning  the  verdict,  and  founded  on  the 
total  want  of  evidence.  The  unavoidable  consequence 
of  such  scenes  is,  to  weaken  the  foundations  on  which 
this  institution  stands  in  a  country  where  it  exists  more 
by  tolerance  than  good  will,  and  to  retard  its  introduc- 
tion into  other  states  where  it  is  esteemed  the  fore- 
runner of  political  anarchy.  Nor  is  it  the  governments 
alone  that  regard  jury  trial  with  unfriendly  eyes;  the 
mere  lawyers,  full  of  professional  prejudices,  are  equal- 


302  BERLIN. 

ly  irreconciieable  enemies,  though  on  different  gfrounds. 
I  found  a  professor  of  the  juridical  faculty  at  Jena  por- 
ing over  a  folio  manuscript,  in  which  he  has  been  col- 
lecting for  years,  principally  from  E^n^lish  newspapers, 
all  the  cages  where  a  jury  seems  to  him  to  have  given  a 
wrong  verdict,  and  from  these  he  ho|>es  to  convince 
Germany  that  a  jury  is  the  worst  of  ?JI  instruments  for 
discovering  the  truth.  To  such  men,  a  trial  like  the 
above  is  a  stronghold;  for  they  forget  that  the  law 
which  admits  such  evidence  as  legitimate  is  no  less  in 
fault  than  the  jurors,  whom  rashness,  prejudice,  or 
popular  belief,  seduces  to  act  upon  it,  and  they  com- 
mit the  very  common  error  of  confounding  the  inci- 
dental defects  with  the  essence  of  an  institution. 

The  Prussian  government  is  usually  decried  amongst 
us,  as  one  of  the  most  intolerant  and  illiberal  of  Ger- 
many, attentive  only  to  secure  the  implicit  and  unthink- 
ing obedience  of  its  subjects,  and,  therefore,  encourag- 
ing every  thing  which  may  retain  them  in  ignorance 
and  degradation.  Every  Briton,  from  what  he  has  heard, 
must  enter  Prussia  with  this  feeling;  and  he  must  blush 
for  his  hastiness,  when  he  runs  over  the  long  line  of 
bold  reforms  and  liberal  ameliorations  which  were  in- 
troduced into  the  whole  frame  of  society  and  public 
relations  in  Prussia,  from  the  time  when  the  late 
Chancellor  Prince  Hardenberg  was  replaced,  in  1810, 
at  the  head  of  the  government.  They  began,  in  fact, 
with  the  battle  of  Jena;  that  defeat  was,  in  one  sense, 
the  salvation  of  Prussia.  The  degrada'tion  and  help- 
lessness into  which  it  plunged  the  monarchy,  while 
thev  roused  all  thinking  men  to  see  that  there  must  be 
something  wrong  in  existing  relations,  brought  like- 
wise the  necessity  of  stupendous  effc)rls  to  make  the 
resources  of  the  diminished  kingdom  meet  both  its 
own  expenditure,  and  the  contributions  levied  on  it  by 
the  conqueror.  A  minister  was  wanted;  for  domineer- 
ing France  would  not  allow  Hardenberg,  the  head  of  the 
Anti-Gallican  party,  and  listened  to  only  when  it  was  too 


THE  GOVERNMENT.  303 

late,  to  retain  his  office,  and  he  retired  to  Riga.  Pre- 
nez  Monsieur  Stein^  said  Napoleon  to  tiie  king,  c^est  un 
homme  d* esprit ;  and  Stein  was  made  minister.  In 
spirit,  he  was  a  minister  entirely  suited  to  the  times, 
but  he  wanted  caution,  and  forgot  that  in  politics,  even 
in  changing  for  the  better,  some  consideration  must  be 
paid  to  what  for  centuries  has  been  bad  and  universal. 
He  was  not  merely  bold,  he  was  fearless;  but  he  was 
thoroughly  despotic  in  his  character;  having  a  good 
object  once  in  his  eje,  he  rushed  on  to  it,  regardless 
of  the  mischief  which  he  might  be  doing  in  his  haste, 
and  tearing  up  and  throwing  down  all  that  stood  in  his 
w^ay,  with  a  vehemence  which  even  the  utility  of  his 
purpose  did  not  always  justify. 

Stein  was  too  honest  a  man  long  to  retain  the  favour 
of  France.  An  intercept^^letter  informed  the  cabi- 
net of  St..  Cloud,  that  he  was  governing  for  Prussian, 
not  for  French  purposes  ;  and  the  king  was  requested 
to  dismiss  le  nom.me  Stein.  He  retired  to  riague,  and 
amused  himself  with  reading  lectures  on  history  to  his 
daughters.  His  retirement  was  folioued  by  a  sort  of 
interregnum  of  ministers,  who  could  contrive  nothing 
except  the  cession  of  Silesia  to  France  instead  of  pay- 
ing the  contributions.  From  necessity,  Hardenberg 
was  recalled ;  and  whoever  will  take  the  trouble  of 
going  over  the  principal  acts  of  his  administration  will 
acknowledge,  not  only  that  he  was  the  ablest  minister 
Prussia  has  ever  possessed,  but  likewise,  that  few 
statesmen,  in  the  unostentatious  path  of  internal  im- 
provement, have  effected,  in  so  brief  an  interval,  so 
many  weighty  and  benelicial  changes — interrupted  as 
he  was  by  a  war  of  unexampled  importance,  which  he 
began  with  caution,  prc^ecuted  with  energy,  and  ter- 
minated in  triumph.  He  received  Prussia  stripped  of 
half  its  extent,  its  honours  blighted,  its  finances  ruined, 
its  resources  at  once  exhausted  by  foreign  contribu- 
tions, and  depressed  by  ancient  relations  among  the 
different  classes  of  society,  which  custom    had  conse- 


304  BERLIN. 

crated,  and  selfishness  was  vehement  to  defend.  He 
has  left  it  to  his  king,  enlarged  in  extent,  and  restored 
to  its  fame;  with  a  \veli-orde red. system  of  finance,  not 
more  defective  or  extravagiirit  ttian  the  struggle  for 
the  redemption  of  the  kingdom  rendered  necessary; 
and,  above  all,  he  has  left  it  freed  from  those  restraints 
which  bound  up  the  capaci^AS  of  its  industry,  and  were 
the  sources  at  once  of  ,pers(^al  degradation  and  nation- 
al poverty.  Nor  (flight  it  to  be  forgotten,  that,  while 
Harde/iberg  had  often  to.  contend,  in  the  course  of 
these  reforms,  now  with  the  jealousies  of  town  corpo- 
rations, and  now  with  the  united  influence  and  preju- 
dices of  the  aristocracy,  he  stood  in  the  difficult  situa- 
tion of  a  foreigner  in  the  kingdom  which  h^  governed, 
unsupported  by  family'descent  or  hereditary  influence. 
His  power  rested  opl  the^ersonal  confidcjnce  of  |he 
king  in  his  talents  ~  and  fronesty,  and.*  the  confidence 
which  all  of  the  people,  who  ever  thought  on  such 
matters,  reposed  in  the  genei'al  spirit  of  his  [}olicy. 

It  was  on  agriculture  that  Prussia  tiad  principally  to 
rely,  and  the  relations  between  the  peasantry  who  la- 
boured the  soil  and  the  [)roprietors,  chiefly  of  the  no- 
bility, who  owned  it,  were  of  an  extremely  depressing 
nature.  The  most  venturous  of  all  Hardenberg's  mea- 
sures was,  that  by  which  he  entirely  new-modelled  the 
system,  and  did  nothing  less  than  create  a  new  order 
of  independent  landed  proprietors.  The  Erbuntertha- 
nigkeit^  or  hereditary  subjection  of  the  peasantry  to 
the  proprietors  of  the  estates  on  which  they  were 
born,  had  been  already  abolished  by  Stein:  Next  were 
removed  the  absurd  restrictions  which  had  so  long 
operated,  with  accumulating  force,  to  diminish  the  pro- 
ductiveness of  land,  bv  fetteijng  the  propiietor  not 
merely  in  the  disposal,  but  evfn  in  the  mode  of  culti- 
vating his  estate.  Then  came  forth,  in  1810,  a  royal 
edict,  effecting,  by  a  single  stroke  of  the  pen,  a  greater 
and  more  decisive  change  than  has  resulted  from  any 
modern  legislative  act,  and  one  on  which  a  more  popu- 


THE  GOVERNMENT.  505 

Inr  form  of  government  would  scarcely  have  ventured. 
It  enacted,  that  all  the  peasantry  of  the  kingdom 
should  in  future  be  free  heieditary  proprietors  of  the 
lands  which  hitherto  they  had  held  only  as  hereditary 
tenants,  on  condition  that  they  gave  up  to  the  landlord 
a  fixed  proportion  of  them.  The  peasantry  formed 
two  classes.  The  first  consisted  of  those  who  enjoyed 
what  may  be  termed  a  hereditary  lease,  that  is,  who 
held  lands  to  which  the  landlord  was  bound,  on  the 
death  of  the  tenant  in  possession,  to  admit  his  succes- 
sor, or,  at  least,  some  near  relation.  The  right  of  the 
landlord  was  thus  greatly  inferior  to  that  of  unlimited 
propertj^  he  had  not  his  choice  of  a  tenant;  the  lease 
was  likely  to  remain  in  the  sanie  family  as  long  as  the 
estate  in  his  own;  and,  in  general,  he  had  not  the 
power  of  increasing  t1ie  rent,  which  had  been  original- 
ly fixed,  centuries,  perhaps,  before,  whether  it  consist- 
ed in  jjroduce  or  services.  These  peasants,  on  giving 
up  one-third  of  their  farms  to  the  landlord,  became  un- 
limited proprietors  of  the  remainder.  The  second 
class  consisted  of  peasants  whose  title  endured  only  for 
life,  or  a  fixed  term  of  years.  In  this  case,  the  land- 
lord was  not  bound  to  continue  the  lease,  on  its  termi- 
nation, to  the  former  tenant,  or  any  of  his  descendants; 
but  still  he  was  far  from  being  unlimited  proprietor; 
he  was  bound  to  replace  the  former  tenant  with  a  per- 
son of  the  same  rank;  he  was  prohibited  to  take  the 
lands  into  his  own  possession,  or  cultivate  them  with 
his  own  capital.  His  right,  however,  was  clearly  more 
absolute  than  in  the  former  case,  and  it  is  difficult  to 
see  what  claim  the  tenant  could  set  up  beyond  the  en* 
durance  of  his  lease.  Though  the  fact,  that  such  re- 
strictions rendered  the  ^ate  less  valuable  to  the  pro- 
prietor, may  have  been  a  very  good  reason  for  aboli^h- 
ing  them  entirely,  it  does  not  seem  to  be  any  reason 
at  all  for  takinor  a  portion  of  the  lands  from  him  who 
had  every  right  to  them,  to  give  it  to  him  who  had  no 
right   whatever,  except  that   of  possession   under  his 

39 


806  BERLIN. 

temporary  lease.  But  this  class  of  peasants,  too,  (and 
they  are  supposed  to  have  been  by  far  the  more  nu- 
merous,) on  i^ivin^  up  one-half  oi^  their  farms,  became 
absohite  proprietors  of  the  remainder.  The  half  thus 
taken  from  the  laridh:)rds  appears  just  to  have  been  a 
price  exacted  from  them  for  the  more  valuable  enjoy- 
ment of  the  other: — as  if  the  government  had  said  to 
them,  Give  up  to  our  disposal  a  certain  portion  of  your 
estates,  and  we  shall  so  sweep  away  those  old  restric- 
tions which  render  them  unproductive  to  you,  that 
what  remains  will  speedily  be  as  valuable  as  the  whole 
was  before. 

It  cannot  be  denied,  therefore,  that  this  famous  edict, 
especially  in  the  latter  of  the  two  cases,  was  a  very 
stern  interference  with  the  rights  of  private  property; 
nor  is  it  wonderful  that  those  against  whom  it  was  di- 
rected should  have  sternly  opposed  it  ;  but  the  minis- 
ter was  sterner  still.  He  found  the  finances  ruined, 
and  the  treasury  attacked  by  demands,  which  required 
that  the  treasury  should  be  tilled  ;  he  saw  the  imperi- 
ous necessity  of  rendering  agriculture  more  |)roductive; 
and  thoup-h  it  may  be  doubted,  whether  the  same  end 
might  not  have  been  gained  by  new-modelling  the  re- 
lations between  the  parties,  as  landlord  and  tenant,  in- 
stead of  stripping  the  former  to  create  a  new  race  of 
proprietors,  there  is  no  doubt  at  all  as  to  the  success  of 
the  measure,  in  increasing  the  productiveness  of  the 
soil.  Even  those  of  the  aristocracy,  who  have  waged 
war  most  bitterly  against  Hardenberg's  refornis,  allow 
that,  in  regard  to  agriculture,  this  law  has  produced 
incredible  good.  "  It  must  be  confessed,"  says  one  of 
them,  '*  that,  in  ten  years,  it  has  carried  us  "forward  a 
whole  century  ;" — the  best  C||  all  experimental  proofs 
how  injurious  the  old  relations  between  tlse  proprie- 
tors and  the  labourers  of  the  soil  must  have  been  to 
the  prosperity  of  the  country. 

The  direct  opei^ation  of  this  measure  necessarily  was 
to  make  a  great  deal  of  property  change   hands  ;  but 


THE  GOVERNMENT.  ^OT 

this  effect  was  farther  increased  by  its  indirect  opera- 
tion. The  law  appeared  at  a  moment  when  the  great- 
er j)art  of  the  estates  of  the  noblhty  were  burdened 
with  debts,  and  the  proprietors  were  now  deprived  of 
their  rentals.  They  indeed  had  land  thrown  back  up- 
on their  hands;  but  this  only  multiplied  their  embar- 
rassments. In  the  hands  of  their  boors,  the  soil  had 
been  productive  to  them  ;  now  that  it  was  in  their  own, 
tliey  had  neither  skill  nor  capital  to  carry  on  its  profit- 
able cultivation,  and  new  loans  only  added  to  the  inte- 
rest whicli  already  threatened  to  consume  its  probable 
fruits.  The  consequence  of  all  this  was,  that,  besides 
the  [)ortion  of  land  secured  in  free  property  to  the 
peasantry,  much  of  the  remainder  came  into  the  mar- 
ket, aiid  the  purchasers  were  generally  persons  who 
had  acquired  wealth  by  trade  or  manufactures.^     The 

*  It  will  scarcely  be  believed  that,  np  to  1807,  it  was  only  bj 
accident  that  a  person  not  nohle  could  find  a  piece  of  land  which 
he  would  be  allowed  to  purchase,  whatever  number  of  estates  might 
be  in  the  market.  By  far  the  greater  portion  of  the  landed  pro- 
perty consisted  of  estates-noble  ;  and  if  the  proprietor  brought  his 
estate  to  sale,  only  a  nobleman  could  purchase  it.  The  rnerchant, 
the  banker,  the  artist,  the  manufacturer,  every  citizen,  in  short, 
who  had  acquired  wealth  by  industry  and  skill,  lay  under  an  abso- 
lute prohibition  against  investing  it  in  land,  unless  he  previously 
purchased  a  patent  of  nobility,  or  stumbled  on  one  of  those  few 
spot?,  small  in  number,  and  seldom  in  the  market,  which,  in  for- 
mer days,  had  escaped  the  hands  of  a  noble  proprietor.  Even 
Frederick  the  Great  lent  his  aid  to  perpetuate  this  preposterous 
system,  in  the  idea  that  he  would  best  compel  the  investment  of 
capital  in  trade  and  manufactures,  by  making  it  impossible  to  dis- 
pose of  it,  when  realized,  in  agricultural  pursuits — a  plan  which 
led  to  the  depression  of  agriculture,  the  staple  of  the  kingdom,  as 
certainly  as  it  was  directed  in  vain  to  cherisn  artificially  a  manu- 
facturing activity,  on  which  the  country  is  much  less  depen<lent. 
Thi^  could  not  possibly  last;  the  noble  proprietors  were  regularly 
becoming  poorer,  and  the  same  course  of  events  which  compelled 
so  many  of  them  to  sell,  disabled  them  generally  from  buying; 
destitute  of  capital  to  cultivate  their  ovvn  estates,  it  was  not  among 
them  that  the  purchasers  of  the  royal  domains  were  to  be  looked 
for.  In  1807,  Stein  swept  away  the  whole  mass  of  absurd  restric- 
tions, and  every  man  was  made  capable  of  holding  every  kind  of 
property. 


308  BERLIN. 

sale  of  the  royal  domains,  to  supply  the  necessities  of 
the  state,  operated  powerfully  in  the  same  way.  These 
domains  alwavs  formed  a  most  important  item  in  the 
revenue  of  a  German  prince,  and  one  which  was  total- 
ly independeiit  of  any  controul,  even  ihnt  of  the  im- 
perfectly constituted  estates.  In  Prussia,  they  were 
estimated  to  yield  annually  nearly  half  a  million  Ster- 
ling, even  in  the  hands  of  farmers  ;  and,  under  the 
changes  which  have  so  rapidly  augmented  the  value  of 
the  soil  all  over  the  kingdom,  they  would  soon  have 
become  much  more  profitable.  But,  while  compelled 
to  tax  severely  tfie  property  of  his  subjects,  the  king 
refused  to  spare  his  own;  and,  in  1811,  an  edict  was 
issued,  authorizing  the  sale  of  the  royal  domains  at 
twenty-five  years'  purchase  of  the  estimated  rental. 
Tiiese,  loo,  passed  into  the  hands  of  purchasers  not 
connected  with  the  aristocracy  ;  for  the  aristocracy,  so 
far  from  being  able  to  purchase  the  estates  of  others, 
were  selling  their  own  estates  to  pay  their  debts.  The 
party  opposed  to  Hardenberg  has  not  ceased  to  lament 
that  the  crown  should  thus  have  been  shorn  of  its  na- 
tive and  independent  glories  ;  ''for  it  ought  to  be  pow- 
ful,"  say  they,  "  by  its  own  revenues  and  possessions." 
Our  principles  of  government  teach  us  a  diiferent  doc- 
trine. 

Beneficial  as  the  economical  effects  of  this  division 
of  property  may  have  been,  its  political  results  are  no 
less  important.  It  has  created  a  new  class  of  citizens, 
and  these  the  most  valuable  of  all  citizens ;  every 
trace,  not  merely  of  subjection,  but  of  restraint,  has 
been  removed  from  the  industrious,  but  poor  and  de- 
graded peasants,  and  they  have  at  once  been  convert- 
ed into  independent  landed  proprietors  resembling 
much  the  small  proprietors,  created  by  the  French 
Revolution.  In  Pomerania,  for  example,  the  estates 
of  the  nobility  were  calculated  to  contain  260  square 
miles  ;  those  of  free  proprietors,  not  noble,  only  five 


THE  GOVERNMENT.  509 

miles.  Of  the  former,  about  100  were  Baucrnhofe^  in 
the  hands  of  the  peasantry;  and,  by  the  operation  of 
the  law,  60  of  these  would  still  remain  the  property  of 
the  boors  who  cultivated  them.  Thus  there  is  now 
twelve  times  as  much  landed  property,  in  this  province, 
belonging  to  persons  who  are  not  no  hie,  as  tliere  was 
before  the  appearance  of  this  edict.  The  race  ol* boors 
is  not  extinct  ;  for  the  provisions  of  the  law  are  not 
imperative,  if  both  parties  prefer  remaining  in  their 
old  relation  ;  but  this  is  a  preference  which,  on  the 
part  of  the  peasant,  at  least,  is  not  to  be  expected. 
Care  has  been  taken  that  no  new  relations  of  the  same 
kind  shall  be  formed  ;  for,  in  181 1,  an  edict  appeared, 
which,  while  it  allows  the  proprietor  to  pay  his  ser- 
vants in  whole  or  in  part  with  the  use  of  land,  limits 
the  duration  of  such  a  contract  to  twelve  years.  It 
prohibits  him  absolutely  from  giving  these  familicsland 
heritably^  on  condition  of  service  ;  if  a  single  acre  is  to 
be  given  in  pro[)erty,  it  must  either  be  a  proper  sale, 
or  a  fixed  rent  must  be  stipulated  in  money  or  produce. 
Hardenberg  was  resolved  that  his  measure  should  be 
complete. 

When  to  the  peasants  who  have  thus  become  land- 
holders, is  added  the  numerous  class  of  citizens,  not  no- 
ble, who  have  come  into  the  possession  of  landed  pro- 
perty by  the  sales  of  the  royal  domains,  and  the  ne- 
cessities of  so  many  of  the  higher  orders,  it  is  not  dif- 
ficult to  foresee  the  political  consequences  of  such  a 
body  of  citizens,  gradually  rising  in  wealth  and  respect- 
ability, and  dignified  by  that  feeling  of  self-esteem 
which  usually  accompanies  the  independent  possession 
of  property.  Unless  their  progress  be  impeded  by  ex- 
traneous circumstances,  they  must  rise  to  political  in- 
fluence, because  they  will  gradually  become  fitting  de- 
positaries of  it.  It  would  scarcely  be  too  much  to  say, 
that  the  Prussian  government  must  have  contemplated 
such  a  change;  for  its  administration,  during  the  last 
fourteen  years,  has  been  directed  to  produce  a  state  of 


310  BERLIN. 

society  in  which  pure  despotism  cannot  lonsf  exist  but 
by  force  ;  it  has  been  throwing  its  subjects  into  those 
relations  which,  by  the  very  course  of  nature,  give  the 
people  political  influence  by  making  them  fi(  to  exer- 
cise it.  Is  there  any  thing  in  political  history  that 
should  make  us  wish  to  see  them  in  possession  of  it 
sooner?  Is  it  not  better,  that  liberty  should  rise  spon- 
taneously from  a  soil  prepared  for  its  reception,  and  in 
which  its  seeds  have  gradually  been  maturing  in  the 
natural  progress  of  society,  than  violently  to  plant  it  on 
stony  and  thorny  ground,  where  no  congenial  qualities 
give  strength  to  its  roots,  and  beauty  to  its  blossoms, 
where  it  does  not  throw  wide  its  perennial  shadow  un- 
der which  the  people  may  find  happiness  and  refuge, 
but  springs  up,  like  the  gourd  of  Jonah,  in  the  night 
of*  popular  tumult,  and  unnatural  and  extravagant  in- 
novation, to  perish  in  the  morning  beneath  the  heat  of 
reckless  faction,  or  the  consuming  Are  of  foreign  inter- 
ference ? 

This  great,  and  somewhat  violent  measure,  of  crea- 
ting m  the  state  a  new  order  of  citizens  possessing  in- 
dependent property,  was  preceded  and  followed  by  a 
crowd  of  other  reforms,  all  tending  to  the  same  end,  to 
let  loose  the  energies  of  all  classes  of  the  people,  and 
bring  them  into  a  more  comfortable  social  relation  to 
each  other.  While  the  peasantry  were  not  only  set 
free,  but  converted  into  landholders,  the  aristocracy 
were  sternly  deprived  of  that  exemption  from  taxation 
which,  more  than  any  thing  else,  renders  them  odious 
in  every  country  where  it  has  been  allowed  to  remain. 
They  struggled  hard  to  keep  their  estates  beyond  the 
reach  of  the  land  tax,  but  the  king  and  Hardenberg 
were  inflexible.  The  wliole  linancial  system  acquired 
an  uniformity  and  equality  of  distribution  which  sim- 
plified it  to  all,  and  diiiiinished  the  expense  of  collec- 
tion, while  it  increased  the  revenue.  Above  all,  those 
cumbersome  and  complicated  arrangements,  under 
which  every  province  had  its  own  budget,  and   its  pe- 


THE  GOVERNMENT.  Sll 

Guliar  taxes,  were  destroyed ;  and  Hardonberg,  after 
much  opposition,  carried  ihrougli  one  uniform  scheme 
for  the  whole  monarchy.  This  enabled  him  to  get  rid 
of  another  monstrous  evil.  Under  the  miserable  sys- 
tem of  tinancial  separation,  every  province  and  every 
town  was  surrounded  with  custom  houses,  taxing  and 
watching  the  productions  of  its  neighbours,  as  if  they 
came  from  foreign  countries,  and  discouraging  all  inter- 
nal communication.  The  whole  was  swept  away.  At. 
the  same  time,  the  national  expenditure  in  its  various 
departments,  the  ways  and  means,  the  state  of  the 
public  debt,  and  the  funds  for  meeting  it,  were  given 
forth  with  a  publicity  which  produced  confidence  in 
Prussia,  and  alarm,  as  setting  a  bad  example,  in  some 
less  prudent  cabinets.  Those  amongst  ourselves  w  ho 
clamour  most  loudly  against  the  misconduct  of  the  Prus- 
sian government  will  allow,  that  the  secularization 
and  sale  of  the  church  lands  was  a  liberal  and  pa- 
triotic measure;  those  who  more  wisely  think,  that 
an  arbitrary  attack  on  any  species  of  property  en- 
dangers the  security  of  all  property,  will  lament  that 
the  {)ul)lic  necessities  should  have  rendeied  it  advi- 
sable. The  servitudes  of  thirlagc,^  of  brewing  beer, 
and  distilling  spn^tuous  liquors,  existed  in  their  most 
oppressive  ibrm,  discouraging  agriculture,  and  foster- 
ing the  ruinous  spirit  of  monopoly.  They  were  abol- 
ished with  so  unsparing  a  hand,  tliat,  though  indemnifi- 
cation was  not  absolutely  refused,  tlie  forms  and  modes 
of  proof  of  loss  sustained  to  found  a  claim  to  it  were  of 
such  a  nature,  as  to  render  it  diflicult  to  be  procured, 
and  trifling  when  made  good.  This  was  too  unsparing. 
In  the  towns  there  was  much  less  to  be  done  ;  it 
was  only  necessary  to  release  their  arts  and  manufac- 
tures from  old  restraints,  and  rouse  their  citizens  to  an 

*  Let  those  who  nccnse  the  Prussian  g-overnment  of  disregfnrding 
the  improvement  of  its  subjects  reflect.  th;jt  it  was  only  in  1799 
that  the  British  Parliament  lhnnor|it  of  contriving  means  to  rescue 
the  agriculture  of  Scotland  from  this  servitude. 


$n  BERLIN. 

interest  in  the  public  weal.  Hardenberg  attempted 
the  first  by  a  measure  on  which  more  popular  govern- 
meiils  have  not  jet  been  bold  enough  to  venture,  how- 
ever stronglv  it  has  been  recommended  by  political 
economists  ;  he  struck  down  at  one  blow  all  guildries 
and  corporations, — not  those  larger  forms,  which  in- 
clude all  the  citizens  of  a  town,  and  constitute  a  bo- 
roughj  but  those  subordinate  forms,  which  regard  par- 
ticular classes  and  professions.  But,  whether  it  was 
from  views  of  finance,  or  that  he  found  himself  compel- 
led, by  opposing  interests,  to  yield  something  to  the  old 
principle,  that  the  public  is  totally  unqualified  to  judge 
who  serves  them  well,  and  who  serves  them  badly,  but 
must  have  some  person  to  make  the  discovery  for  them, 
the  Chancellor  seems  to  have  lost  his  way  in  this  mea- 
sure. He  left  every  man  at  liberty  to  follow  every 
profession,  free  from  the  fetters  of  an  incorporated 
body  ;  but  he  converted  the  government  into  one  huge, 
universal  corporation,  and  allowed  no  man  to  pursue 
any  profession  without  annually  procuring  and  paying 
for  the  permission  of  the  state.  The  Geiverbsteuer^  in- 
troduced in  1810,  is  a  yearly  tax  on  every  man  who 
follows  a  profession,  on  account  of  that  profession;  it 
is  like  our  ale  and  pedlar  licences,  but  it  is  universal.* 

*  In  1820,  it  was  estimated  at  1,600,000  rix-dollnrs,  about  L.  225, 
000.  The  sum  payable  b}'^  individuals  varies,  according"  to  the  na- 
ture and  extent  of  their  profession,  from  one  dollar  to  two  hundred. 
A  l>rewer,  tor  example,  pays  according  to  the  quantity  of  barley 
which  he  uses,  or  a  butcher  according-  to  the  number  of  oxen  which 
he  kills.  This  must  produce  an  unpleasant  inquisition  into  private 
atfairs.  The  descriptions,  too,  are  so  indefinite,  that  it  must  fre- 
quently be  impossible  to  ascertain  to  which  class  a  man  belongs. 
Thus,  in  the  iifth  class,  which  varies  from  24  to  84  dollars,  stand 
'•  the  most  respectable  physicians  in  the  three  large  towns,"  (Ber- 
lin, Breslau,  and  Konigsberg.)  Now,  when  the  doctors  differ,  as 
assuredly  they  will  do,  who  shall  decide  on  the  comparative  re- 
spectability of  these  learned  persons  ?  Again,  midwives  in  these 
three  cities  pay  more  than  in  the  other  tovvns  of  the  monarchy  ; 
but  why  should  such  a  person  pay  more  in  Berlin  than  in  Magde- 
burgh  ?  Is  the  place  where  she  practises  any  proof  of  the  amount 
of  her  professional  gains  ? 


THE  GOVERNMENT.  313 

So  far,  it  is  only  financial ;  but  the  license  by  no  means 
follows  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  here  reappears  the 
incorporation  spirit ;  every  member  of  those  profes- 
sions, which  are  held  to  concern  more  nearly  the  pub- 
lic weal,  must  produce  a  certificate  of  the  provincial 
orovernment,  that  he  is  duly  qualified  to  exercise  it. 
Doctors  and  chimney-sweeps,  midwives  and  ship-build- 
ers, notaries-public  and  mill-wrights,  booksellers  and 
makers  of  water-pipes,  with  a  host  of  other  equally  ho- 
mo;:^eneous  professional ists,  (nust  be  guaranteed  by  that 
department  of  the  orovernment  within  whose  sphere 
their  occupation  is  most  naturally  included,  as  perfect- 
ly fit  to  execute  their  professions.  The  system  is 
cuiiibersome,  but  it  wants,  at  least,  the  exclusive  esprit 
de  corps  of  corporations. 

The  other  and  more  important  object,  that  of  rous- 
inof  the  citizens  to  an  active  concern  in  the  affairs  of 
their  own  community,  had  already  been  accomplished 
by  Stein  in  his  Stadteornung^  or  Constitution  for  the 
cities,  which  was  completed  and  promuli^ated  in  1808. 
He  did  not  oo  the  leno;th  of  annual  parliaments  and 
universal  suifrage,  for  the  magistracy  is  elected  only 
every  third  year  ;  but  the  elective  franchise  is  so  wide- 
ly distributed  among  all  resident  householders,  of  a  cer- 
tain iiicome  or  rental,  that  none  are  excluded  whom  it 
"would  be  proper  to  admit.  Nay,  complaints  are  some- 
times heard  from  persons  of  the  upper  ranks,  that  it 
compels  them  to  give  up  pitying  any  attention  to  civic 
affairs,  because  it  places  too  direct  and  overwhelming 
an  influence  in  the  hands  of  the  lower  orders.  There 
can  be  no  doubt,  however,  of  the  good  which  it  has 
done,  were  there  nothing  else  than  the  publicity  which 
it  has  bestowed  on  the  management  and  proceedings 
of  public  and  charitable  institutions.  The  first  mer- 
chant of  Breslau,  the  second  city  of  the  monarchy,  told 
me  it  was  impossible  to  conceive  what  a  change  it  had 
effected  for  the  better,  and  what  interest  every  citizen 
now  took,  in  the  public  affairs  of  the  corporation,  in 
40 


314  BERLIN. 

hospitals  and  schools,  in  roads,  and  bridges,  and  pave- 
ments, and  water-pipes.  "  Nay,"  added  he,  "  by  our 
example,  we  have  even  compelled  the  Cathohc  chari- 
ties to  print  accounts  of  their  funds  and  proceedings ;  for, 
without  doing  so,  they  could  not  have  stood  against  us 
in  public  confidence."  This  is  the  true  view  of  the  mat- 
ter; nor  is  there  any  danger  that  the  democratic  prin« 
ciple  will  be  extravagant  in  the  subordinate  communi- 
ties, while  the  despotic  principle  is  so  strong  in  the  ge- 
neral government  of  the  country. 

Such  has  been  the  general  spirit  of  the  administra- 
tion of  Prussia,  since  the  battle  of  Jena;  and  it  would 
be  gross  injustice  to  her  government  to  deny,  that  in 
all  this  it  has  acted  with  an  honest  and  effective  view 
to  the  public  welfare,  and  has  betrayed  any  thing  but^ 
a  selfish  or  prejudiced  attachment  to  old  and  mischiev- 
ous relations;  that  was  no  part  of  the  character  of 
either  Stein  or  Hardenberg»  The  government  is  in 
its  forms  a  despotic  one;  it  Vi^ields  a  censorship;  it 
is  armed  with  a  strict  and  stern  police  ;  and,  in  one 
sense  the  property  of  the  subject  is  at  its  disposal,  in 
so  far  as  the  portion  of  his  goods  which  he  shall  con- 
tribute to  the  public  service  depends  only  on  the  plea- 
sure of  the  government.  But  let  not  our  just  hatred 
of  despotic  forms  make  us  blind  to  substantial  good. 
Under  these  forms,  the  government,  not  more  from  po- 
licy than  inclination,  has  been  guilty  of  no  oppressions 
which  might  place  it  in  dangerous  opposition  to  public 
feeling  or  opinion ;  while  it  has  crowded  its  adminis- 
tration with  a  rapid  succession  of  ameliorations,  which 
gave  new  life  to  all  the  weightiest  interests  of  the  state, 
and  brought  all  classes  of  society  into  a  more  natural 
array,  and  which  only  ignorance  or  prejudice  can  deny 
to  have  been  equally  beneficial  to  the  people,  and  ho- 
nourable to  the  executive.  1  greatly  doubt,  whether 
there  be  any  example  of  a  popular  government  doing 
so  much  real  good  in  so  short  a  time,  and  with  bo  much 
continued  effect.     When  a  minister  roots   out   abuses 


THE  GOVERNMENT.  315 

which  impede  individual  prosperity,  gives  free  course 
to  the  arts  and  industry  of  the  country,  throws  open  to 
the  degraded  the  paths  of  comfort  and  respectability, 
and  brings  down  the  artificial  privileges  of  the  high  to 
that  elevation  which  nature  demands  in  every  stable 
form  of  political  society ;  while  he  thus  prepares  a  peo- 
ple for  a  popular  goveriiment,  while^  at  the  same 
time,  by  this  very  preparation,  he  creates  the  safest 
and  most  unfailing  means  of  obtaining  it,  he  stands  much 
higher,  as  a  statesman  and  philosopher,  than  the  m.iniG- 
ter  who  rests  satisfied  with  the  easy  praise,  and  the 
more  than  doubtful  experiment,  of  giving  popular 
forms  to  a  people  which  knows  neither  how  to  value 
nor  exercise  them.  The  statesmen  of  this  age,  more 
than  of  any  other,  ought  to  have  learned  the  folly  of 
casting  the  political  pearl  before  swine. 

This  is  no  defence  of  despotism  ;  it  is  a  statement  of 
the  good  which  the  Prussian  government  has  done,  arid 
an  elucidation  of  the  general  spirit  of  improvement  in 
which  it  has  acted;  but  it  furnishes  no  reason  for  re- 
taining  the  despotic  forms  under  which  this  good  has 
been  wrought  out,  so  soon  as  the  public  wishes  require, 
and  the  public  mind  is,  in  some  measure,  capable  of 
using  more  liberal  and  manly  instruments.  On  the 
other  hand,  it  is  most  unfair  (and  yet,  in  relation  to 
Prussia,  nothing  is  more  common)  to  forget  what  a 
monarch  has  done  for  his  subjects,  in  our  hatred  of  the 
fact  that  he  has  done  it  without  their  assistance.  The 
despotism  of  Prussia  stands  as  far  above  that  of  Na- 
ples, or  Austria,  or  Spain,  as  our  own  constitution 
stands  above  the  mutilated  Charter  of  France.  The 
people  are  personally  attached  to  their  king ;  and,  in 
regarJ  to  his  government,  they  feel  and  recognize  the 
real  good  vvliich  has  been  done  infinitely  more  strongly 
than  the  want  of  the  unknown  good  which  is  yet  to  be 
attained,  and  which  alone  can  secure  the  continuance 
of  all  the  rest.  They  have  not  enjoyed  the  political 
experience  and  education  which  would  teach  them  the 


2^^  BERLIN. 

value  of  this  security  ;  and  even  the  better  informed 
classes  tremble  at  the  thought  of  exacting  it  by  popu- 
lar clamour,  because  they  see  it  must  speedily  come  of 
itself.  From  the  Elbe  to  the  Oder,  1  found  nothing 
to  make  me  believe  in  the  existence  of  that  oreneral 
discontent  and  ripeness  for  revolt  which  have  been 
broadly  asserted,  more  than  once,  to  exist  in  Prussia;* 
and  it  would  be  wonderful  to  find  a  people  to  whom 
all  political  thinking  is  so  new,  who  know  nothing  of 
political  theories,  and  suffer  no  personal  oppressions, 
ready  to  raise  the  shout  of  insurrection.  It  will  never 
do  to  judge  of  the  general  feeling  of  a  country  from 
the  mad  tenets  of  academical  youths,  (who  are  despis- 
ed by  none  more    heartily  than    by  the    people    them- 

*  To  this  it  is  commonly  added,  that   the  general  discontent  is 
only  forcibly  kept  down  by  the  large  standing  army.     The  more  I 
understood  the  constitution  of  the  Prussian  army,   the   more  diffi- 
cult I  found  it  to  admit  this  constantly  repeated  assertion.     Not  on- 
ly is  every  male,  of  a  certain  age,  a  regularly  trained   soldier,  the 
most  difficult  of  all  populations  to  be  crushed   by  force,  when  they 
are  once  warmed  by  a  pc   ular  cauie,   l»ut  bv  far   the   grerter  part 
of  this  supposed   despotic    instrument  consists   of  men  t;:k*si.    ind 
taken  only  for  a  time,  fron^i  the  body  of  citizens  against  whom  they 
are  to  be  employed.     There  is  always,  indeed,  a  very  hrge  army 
on  foot,  and  the  foreign  relations  of  Prussia  render  the  mainten;ince 
of  a  large  force  indispensable  ;  but  it  is,  in  fact,   a  militia.     '^  We 
have  no  standing  army  at  all,  propei  ly  speaking,"  said  an  officer  of 
the  guards  to  me  ;  "  what  may  be   caJIcd    our  standing   army  is,  in 
reality,  nothing  but  a  school,  in  which  ail  citizens,  without   excep- 
tion, between  twenty  and  thirty-two  years  of  age,  are  trained  to  be 
soldiers.     Three  years  are   reckoned  sufticient  for   this   purpose. 
A  third  of  our  army  is  annually  changed.     Those  who  have  served 
their  three  years  are  sent  home,  form  what  is  called   the  War  Re- 
serve, and,  in  case   of  war,   are    first  called   out.     Their   place  is- 
supplied  by  a  new  draught  from  the  young  men  who  have  not  yet 
been  out;  and  so  it  goes   on."     Surely  a   military  force   so  consti- 
tuted is  not  that  to  which  a  despot  can  well  trust  for  enchaining  a 
struggling  people  ;  if  popular  feeling  were  against  him,  these  men 
would  bring  it  along  with  them  to  his  very  standard.     1  cannot  help 
thinking,  that,  if  it  were  once   come  to  this   between   the   people 
and  government  of  Prussia,  it  would  not   be   in    his   own  ba}^^onets, 
but  in  those  of  Russia  and  Austria,  that  Frederick  Willinm   would 
have  to  seek  a  trust-worthy  allv. 


THE  GOVERNMENT.  317 

selves,)  or  from  the  still  less  pardonable  excesses  of 
hot-headed  teachers.  When  I  was  in  Berhn,  a  plot, 
headed  by  a  schoolmaster,  was  detected  in  Stargard, 
in  Pomerania;  the  object  was,  to  proclaim  the  Spanish 
Constitution,  and  assassinate  the  ministers  and  other 
persons  of  weight  who  might  naturally  be  supposed  to 
be  hostile  to  the  innovation.  This  no  more  proves  the 
Prussian  people  to  be  ripe  for  revolt,  than  it  proves 
them  to  be  ready  to  be  murderers. 

In  judging  of  the  political  feelings  of  a  country,  a 
Briton  is  apt  to  be  deceived  by  liis  own  political  habits 
still  more  than  by  partial  observation.  The  political 
exercises  and  education  which  we  enjoy,  are  riches 
which  we  may  well  wish  to  see  in  the  possession  of 
others;  but  they  lead  us  into  a  thousand  fallacies, 
when  they  make  us  conclude,  from  what  our  own 
feelings  would  be  under  any  given  institutions,  that  an- 
other people,  whose  very  prejudices  go  with  its  go- 
vernment, must  be  just  as  ready  to  present  a  claini  of 
right,  bring  the  king  to  trial,  or  declare  ILe  throne  to  be 
vacant.  P-^i'S'^ia  is  by  no  means  ihe  only  country  of  Gar- 
mau)  where  the  peo})le  know  nofhtng  of  that  love  of 
political  thinking  and  information  which  pervades  our- 
selves. But  Piussia  is  in  the  true  course  to  arrive  at 
it ;  the  most  useful  classes  of  her  society  are  gradually 
rising  in  wealth,  respectability,  and  importance  ;  and, 
ere  long,  her  government,  in  tfie  natural  course  of 
things,  must  admit  popular  elements.  If  foreign  influ- 
ence, and,  above  all,  that  of  Russia,  wliose  leaden 
weight  is  said  to  hang  too  heavily  already  on  the 
cabinet  of  Berlin,  do  not  interfere,  I  shall  be  deceived 
if  the  change  be  either  demanded  with  outrageous 
clamour  from  below,  or  refused  with  unwise  and  selfish 
obstinacy  from  above.  No  people  of  the  continent 
better  deserves  political  liberty  than  the  Germans; 
for  none  will  wait  for  it  more  patiently,  receive  it  more 
thankfully,  or  use  it  with  greater  moderation. 


lis  SILESIA. 


CHAPTER  XI. 


SIXESIA — CRACOW. 


Von  Europcn  bekriegt, 
Um  mich  hat  der  Gresse  gekarapft  und  gesiegi. 

The  country  between  Berlin  and  Frankfort  on  the 
Oder  bears  the  same  general  character  with  that 
which  lies  to  the  westward  of  the  capital,  and  the 
band  of  industry  has  been  unable  to  root  out  its  tire- 
some firs,  or  cover  the  nakedness  of  its  dreary  sands. 
The  population  seemed  to  be  thinly  scattered,  and  the 
villages  are  few  ;  nor  can  it  be  a  good  sign  of  a  coun- 
try, that  the  toll-houses  are  almost  the  only  good  ones 
to  be  seen  on  the  road. 

Frankfort  on  the  Oder  makes  a  miserable  appear- 
ance after  its  wealthy  and  bustling  name-sake  on  the 
banks  of  the  Main.  The  town,  small  and  ordinarily 
built,  Vt^ith  the  principal  streets  running  parallel  to  the 
Oder,  contains  a  population  of  about  fifteen  thousand 
inhabitants,  and  displays  few  traces  of  mercantile 
wealth  and  activity.  Its  university.,  too,  is  gone  ;  in 
1810,  it  was  united  with  that  of  Breslau. 

The  Oder  is  here  a  broad,  deep,  and  majestic  river, 
troubled  in  its  colour,  and  not  rapid  in  its  motion. 
The  bridge  is  of  wood,  a  very  solid,  but  a  very  clumsy 
structure.  The  parapet  consists  of  large  trees,  screw- 
ed down  upon  the  planks  which  form  the  pavement, 
?nd  fortified,  at  certain  distances,  by  heaps  of  large 
stones.  All  this,  cumbersome  and  clumsy  as  it  looks, 
has  an  object.  When  the  river  is  inundated,  it  some- 
times rises  above  the  bridge  ;  and  there  is  a  danger, 
that  the  v/ater,  hurrying  through  below,  may  force  up 
the  flooring.     To  guard  asjainst  this  is  the  reason  of 


CEMETERIES.  319 

loading  it  with   these   enormous   blocks   ol   stone   and 
wood. 

The  contrivance  for  protecting  the  bridge  against 
the  fields  of  ice  which  come  down  in  S[»ring  is  inge- 
nious in  its  principle.  About  two  hundred  yards  above 
the  bridge,  a  wooden  shed  rises  in  the  centre  of  the 
river,  considerably  elevated  above  the  ordinary  level 
of  the  water,  and  presenting  an  inclined  plane  to  the 
current.  The  effect  of  this  is,  to  break  the  descend- 
ing body  of  ice  into  two  great  masses.  A  hundred 
yards  nearer  the  bridge,  these  masses  are  opposed 
by  three  similar  ice-breakers,  and  are  thus  subdivided 
into  at  least  six,  which  again,  on  approaching  the 
bridge,  encounter  another  array  of  these  opponents, 
one  in  front  of  each  pier,  in  the  usual  way,  and  they 
are  thus  reduced  to  pieces  so  small,  that  they  pass  into 
the  water-way  without  exposing  the  bridge  to  much 
danger. 

Beyond  Frankfort,  on  the  great  road  to  Breslau, 
there  is  almost  as  little  to  interest  the  eye  as  before  ; 
the  Oder  is  left  to  the  right,  and  the  verdure  which 
clothes  its  banks  is  the  only  beauty  that  nature  wears. 
A  solitary  enclosure,  on  the  summit  of  a  small  rising 
ground,  turned  out  to  be  a  Jewish  burying  place,  as 
lonely  in  its  situation,  and  as  neglected  in  its  appear- 
ance, as  can  well  be  imagined.  In  so  dreary  a  scene, 
these  habitations  of  the  dead  look  doubly  dreary. 
The  inscriptions  were  all  in  Hebrew,  and  the  stones 
were  overgrown  with  coarse  rank  grass.  The  Christ- 
ian cemeteries,  on  the  contrary,  in  this  part  of  Ger- 
many, are  kept  with  great  neatness.  Every  grave  is,  in 
general,  a  flovver-bed.  I  walked  out,  one  morning,  to 
the  great  cemetery  of  Berlin,  to  visit  the  tomb  of 
Klaproth,  which  is  aierely  a  cross,  and  announces  no- 
thing but  his  name  and  age.  Close  by,  an  elderly 
looking  w^oman,  in  decent  mourning,  was  watering  the 
flowers  with  which  she  had  planted  the  grave  of  an 
only   daughter,  (as  the  sexton  afterwards   told   me,) 


sm  SILESIA. 

who  had  heen  Interred  the  preceding  week.  The 
grave  formed  nearly  a  square  of"  about  tive  feet.  It 
was  divided  into  little  beds,  all  dressed,  and  kept  with 
the  utmost  care,  and  adorned  with  tiie  simplest  flowers. 
Evergreens,  interm'n<i;led  with  daisies,  were  ranged 
round  the  borders;  little  clumps  of  violets  and  forget- 
me-not  were  scattered  in  the  interior,  aiid,  in  the 
centre,  a  solitary  lily  hung  down  its  languishing  blos- 
som. The  broken  hearted  mother  had  just  watered 
it,  and  tied  it  to  a  small  stick,  to  secure  it  against  the 
wi.'id ;  at  her  side  lay  the  weeds  which  she  had  rooted 
out.  Slie  w^cnt  round  the  whole  spot  again  and  again, 
anxiously  pulling  up  every  little  blade  of  grass — then 
gazed  for  a  few  seconds  on  the  grave — put  the  weeds 
into  her  apron — took  up  her  little  watering-pot — 
walked  towards  the  gate — returned  again  to  see  that 
her  iily  was  secure — and,  at  last,  as  the  suppressed 
tear  began  to  start,  hurried  out  of  the  church-yard. 
There  is  something  extremely  tender  and  delicate 
in  this  simple  mode  of  cherishing  the  memory  of  the 
dead. 

At  Crossen,  a  small  town  on  the  Oder,  thirty  miles 
beyond  Frankfort,  the  traveller  scarcely  believes  his 
eyes,  when  he  sees  regular  vineyards  laid  out  on  the 
eminences  along  the  banks  of  the  river;  for,  though 
the  soil  has,  by  this  time,  become  much  better,  there 
is  nothing  in  the  general  style  of  the  country  and 
climate  to  make  him  expect  these  wanderers  from  the 
south.  It  is  one  of  the  most  northerly  points  of  Eu- 
rope at  which  the  vine  is  cultivated  for  purposes  of 
commerce.  The  quantity  is  not  so  great  as  at  Griin- 
berg,  eighteen  miles  farther  on,  where  the  vintage 
forms  a  principal  source  of  the  occupation  and  sus- 
tenance of  the  inhabitants.  The  crops,  in  such  a  cli- 
mate, are  necessarily  extremely  inconstant;  the  severi- 
ty of  winter  often  kills  the  vine,  and  such  a  failure 
reduces  a  number  of  these  poor  people  to  misery. 
They  allow  that  it  would   be   more   profitable  to   use 


VINEYARDS.  SQl 

the  ground  as  corn  land  ;  but  the  cost  of  laying  out  and 
stocking  the  vineyards  has  been  incurred,  and  they 
are  uriwilling  to  lose  all  that  has  been  exj)ended.  1  he 
wine  itself  is  poor  and  acid.  In  Berlin  it  goes  by  the 
name  of  Griinberg  vinegar;  and  vinegar  is  facetiously 
called  Griinberg  wine. 

After  leaving,  at  Neustadtel,  the  great  road  to  Bres- 
lau,  to  gain  the  cross-road  which  leads  to  Hirschberg 
and  the  mountains,  there  were  still  thirty  miles  of 
wearisome  travelling  in  deep  sand,  with  its  usual  ac- 
com[)animents  of  tirs,  scanty  crops,  and  parclied  grass. 
The  face  of  the  country  certainly  gives  no  contradic- 
tion to  the  hypothesis  which  has  sometimes  been  start- 
ed, that  the  whole  of  this  region  was  once  covered  by 
the  East  sea.  The  cottages  and  peasantry  display  no 
marks  of  the  superior  comfort  which  has  been  sup- 
posed to  prevail  throughout  all  Silesia,  in  comparison 
with  the  rest  of  the  monarchy;  in  this  part  of  the 
province,  the  Silesians  have  to  contend  with  the  same 
obstacles  as  the  farmers  of  Pomerania  and  the  Mark. 
Ale-houses  are  abundantly  scattered,  and  no  postilion 
drives  a  stage,  without  stopping  to  enjoy  a  schnapps. 
Who  can  resist  the  temptation,  when  an  ale-house,  in- 
stead of  a  sign-post,  hangs  out  a  board,  with  the  se- 
ducing salutation,  Willkommen  mein  Frcund — Welcome^ 
my  friend  ?  Thep^stinp-  itself  is  infamous,  not  so  much 
after  you  are  on  the  ro  d,  as  bef(  re  f'eUmg  en  it ;  you 
may  reckon  on  waiting  at  least  an  hour  for  horses.  At 
Spottau,  after  considerably  more  than  an  hour  had  ex- 
pired, three  starved  horses  tottered  up  to  the  carriage, 
one  led  by  an  old  woman,  another  by  a  little  girl,  and  the 
third  by  a  lame  hostler;  and,  notwithstanding  all  th.is, 
you  are  pertinaciously  attacked  for  ''expedition-money." 
It  was  Sunday  morning,  and  men,  women,  and  chil- 
dren, were  seated  or  stretched  in  the  sun,  before  their 
doors.  "  Why  don't  you  go  to  church?"  I  called  to 
a  young,  white-headed  rogue,  who  was  basking  him- 
self, apparently  half  asleep,  along  a  stone  bench.  "  1 
41 


S2S  SILESIA. 

have  no  time,"  was  the  reply  ;  and  he  turned  himself 
again  to  his  repose. 

At  length,  these  dreary  deserts  disappeared  at 
Bunzlau,  a  small  town,  standing  on  the  verge  ol  that 
varied  district  which  extends  southwards  to  the  moun- 
tains, and  which  contains  the  greatest  natural  beauties, 
tis  well  as  the  principal  part  of  tlie  industry  and  wealth 
of  the  provitice.  Like  all  the  small  towns  of  Silesia,  it 
is  confused,  and  somewhat  gloomy,  except  that  the  vari- 
ous colours  with  which  the  outsides  of  the  houses  are 
painted,  give  some  relief  to  the  predominating  dulness. 
The  fronts  uniformly  terminate  above  in  some  out  of 
the  way  form,  sometimes  a  semieircle,  sometimes  a 
parallelogram,  sometimes  a  semicircle  on  the  base  of  a 
pyramid  as  a  pedestal ;  but  most  frequently  they  are 
cut  into  a  multitude  of  circular  and  angular  surfaces. 
The  reason  is,  that  ihe  houses  are  generally  built  with 
the  gable  towards  the  street  ;  and,  as  it  required  no 
very  refined  taste  to  discover  that  such  a  succession  of 
triangles  offended  the  eye,  the  remedy  was  sought  in 
giving  to  the  gable  a  more  varied,  and,  as  it  was 
thought,  a  more  beautiful  form.  In  all  these  little 
towns  there  is  a  great  want  of  space;  the  streets  are 
narrow,  but  fortunately  the  buildings  are  not  lofty, 
seldom  exceeding  three  floors.  The  market  place  is 
every  thing  to  the  inhabitants,  atid  is  generally  spoil- 
ed by  having  the  town-house,  to  \^hich  various  booths 
and  shops  are  tacked,  placed  in  its  centre.  On  that 
of  Bunzlau  stands  the  monument  erected  by  the  King 
of  Prussia  to  Marshal  Kutusoflf,  who  died  here  after 
having  conducted  the  Russian  army  so  far  en  its  vic- 
torious march.  It  is  a  small  obelisk,  standing  on  a 
pedestal  of  three  steps,  and  rising  from  between  two 
crouchinor  lions.  On  its  sides  the  deeds  and  titles  of 
the  Marshal  are  recorded  in  German  and  Russ.  The 
whole  is  of  cast  iron,  and  was  executed  in  the  Berlin 
foundery. 

Lowenberg,  the  next  stage,  places  you  fairly  within 
the  beautiful  country  which  attracts  so  many  wander- 


HIRSCHBERG.  32S 

era  to  Silesia  from  all  parts  of  Germany.  At  every 
mile  of  the  road  to  Hirschberg,  richness  of  landscape, 
fertility  of  soil,  and  denseness  of  population  rapidly 
increased  :  hill  and  dale,  wood  and  water,  followed 
each  other  in  close  succession :  the  wild  rose  was 
blooming  in  profusion,  instead  of  the  long  dry  grass 
which  had  been  the  onl^  vegetable  ornament  of  the 
Mark  ;  and  the  Bober  poured  himself  alcng  beneath 
overhanging  woods.  This  river,  if  it  deserve  the 
name  of  a  river,  though  memorable  In  history,  makes 
no  figure  in  geography  ;  it  is  a  pleasing,  clear,  roman- 
tic siream,  neither  deep  nor  broad,  except  when 
swollen  in  consequence  of  rain;  and  yet,  with  its 
neighbour  the  Katzbach,  it  was  the  ruin  of  the  French 
army,  which  Bliicher  drove,  with  utter  destruction, 
first  into  the  one,  and  then  into  the  other. 

The  numerous  villages  of  this  Prussian  Switzerland 
are  often  pitched  in  romantic  situations,  but  in  them- 
selves they  do  not  betoken  more  comfort  than  those  of 
the  desert  sands  to  the  north.  Great  part  of  the  po- 
pulation is  Catholic,  and  crucifixes  appear  among  the 
trees  almost  as  frequently  as  cottages.  The  most  pleas- 
ing sight,  among  the  living  things,  was  the  crowds  of 
children  trudging  along  to  school,  each  with  a  book 
and  a  slate.  The  little  creatures  were  the  very  pic- 
tures of  health,  and,  especially  the  girls,  they  were  ve- 
ry cleanly,  though  coarsely  dressed.  As  the  carriage 
passed,  they  made  their  bows,  dropped  their  cui'tseys, 
and  lisped  out  their  good  morning,  with  the  most  smil- 
ing, modest,  happy  countenances  in  the  world. 

From  a  height,  the  whole  valley  of  Hirschberg  at 
length  lay  before  the  eye.  In  anj  country,  it  W(  uld 
be  a  ravishing  prospect,  and  the  region  of  tourists  ;  in 
Prussia,  where  the  inhabitants  are  doomed  to  a  nature 
which  rarely  assumes  the  character  of  beauty,  or  re- 
lieves the  eye  by  variety,  it  is  not  wonderful  that  they 
should  reckon  it  the  perfection  of  romantic  and  rural 
scenery,  and    proudly  set  it  by  the   side  of  the   Swfs^ 


3M  SILESIA. 

vallles  and  the  Italian  lakes.  On  the  east,  north,  and 
south,  a  semicircular  range  of  eminences,  extremely 
various  in  elevation,  form,  and  covering,  inclose  a  val- 
ley, whose  fertile  soil  is  loaded  with  every  thing  which 
industry  can  brmg  from  it,  and  thickly  strewed  with 
populous  villages.  On  the  south,  it  is  bounded  by  the 
Sudetes,  or  Riesengcbirge — the  Giant-Mountains — and, 
right  in  the  centre,  towers  their  loftiest  summit,  the 
Schneekoppe^  or  Snow-Head,  rearing  its  rounded  top, 
crowned  with  a  small  chapel,  to  the  height  of  nearly 
five  thousand  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea.  It  has 
the  advantage  of  rising  almost  at  once  from  the  plain, 
without  having  its  absolute  height  diminished  to  the 
eye  by  intervening  ridges  of  lower  elevation.  On  the 
west  it  is  danked  by  various  summits,  varying  in  height 
from  4000  to  4500  feet ;  and  on  ditierent  parts  of  the 
long  ridge  which  connects  these  loftier  points,  enor- 
mous masses  of  bare  granite  start  up  into  the  air.  The 
weak  point  in  the  landscape  is,  the  want  of  water. 
The  B  )ber  and  Zacken,  indeed,  flow  through  it,  but 
they  are  too  small  to  make  any  figure.  Our  Benlo- 
mond  yields  in  height  to  the  Schneekoppe  ;  but  his 
laVe  places  him  infinitely  above  the  Silesian  giant,  in 
wild  and  romantic  beauty. 

Hirschberg,  the  principal  town  of  this  part  of  Sile- 
sia, and  the  capital  of  a  circle  to  which  it  gives  its  name, 
dt'es  not  contain  more  than  7000  inhabitants,  and  by 
no  means  proinises  to  become  more  flourishing.  It 
owed  its  eminence  to  the  gauze  and  linen  manufactures, 
of  which  it  was  the  centre;  but  both  these  manufac- 
tures, which  have  been  the  source  of  all  the  pros- 
perity of  Lower  Silesia,  and  on  which  the  greater  part 
of  its  population  still  depend,  have  miserably  decayed 
during  the  last  thirty  years.  I  heard  precisely  the 
complaints  of  Manchester  and  Glasgow  re-echoed  at 
the  foot,  and  in  the  vallles  of  the  Mountains  of  the 
Giant.  The  Silesian  linen  found  its  way  into  all  parts 
of  Europe  and  South  America,  from  Archangel  to  Pe^ 


HIRSCHBERG.  5S5 

rtr.  The  quantities  sent  into  Hunorary  and  Poland 
were  considerable  ;  Russia  was  a  still  more  profitable 
outlet ;  but  by  far  tfie  most  im[)ortant  branch  of  the 
trade  was  the  ex|>ortation  to  Spain,  for  the  |>urpose  of 
supplying  the  South  Ameiicar)  markets.  In  1792,  the 
linen  exported  tVon)  Silesia  amounted  to  more  tfianfive 
and  a  half  million  dollars,  (L.8()(l,(:00,)  and  the  manu- 
facture furnished  employ menf  to  thirtv-tive  thousand 
people.  Even  at  tha?  tilne,  it  was  considered  to  have 
'  gained  its  greatest  height,  and  began  to  feel  the  suc- 
cess with  which  Irish  linen  was  encountering  it  in  fo- 
reign markets.  No  very  important  frilling  oii',  howev- 
er, was  observed  till  the  beijinning  of  the  present  cen- 
tury. The  trade  between  Silesia  and  America  had 
passed  chiefly  through  Cadiz,  and  the  Continental  Sys- 
tem gave  the  death-blow  to  the  prosperity  of  Silesia. 
Prussia,  humbled  at  the  feet  of  the  ronqtjeror,  was 
compelled  to  receive  his  laws,  and  the  [)rohibition 
against  the  importation  of  British  wares,  put  an  end  to 
her  own  lucrative  commerce  with  the  f>ew  world.  On 
the  return  of  peace,  Silesia  endeavoured,  but  in  vain, 
to  regain  the  ground  which  it  had  lost  ;  it  found  Bri- 
tain firmly  established  as  a  successful  rival  in  the  mar- 
kets of  the  new  world  :  in  Russia  and  Poland,  it  wa& 
opposed  by  Bohemia  ;  and  the  export,  I  was  assured, 
is  not  one-third  of  what  it  amounted  to  before  this  ca- 
lamitous period.  Misery  is  almost  always  unjust  ;  let 
the  Silesian  manufacturers  therefore  be  jjardoncd  their 
bitterness  against  England;  for  although,  while  receiv- 
ing us  individually  with  kindness  and  respect,  they  re- 
vile us  as  a  nation  of  selfish  monopolizers,  they  hav« 
shown  by  deeds,  that  they  know  well  with  whose  in- 
tolerant ambition  their  evils  had  oi'iginated.  H.  w  re- 
gularly does  injustice  bring  its  own  punishment  !  The 
thousands  of  thosp  honest  and  industrious  people,  whom 
the  ambition  of  Nipoleon  had  brought  to  ruin,  swelled 
the  hosts  which,  on  the  Katzbach,  and  at  Leipzig, 
fought  against  him  with   the  eager  and  obstinate    per- 


326  SILESIA. 

severance  of  personal  antipathy.  A  young  man,  the 
son  of  a  linen- weaver,  apparently  not  more  than  twen- 
ty-five years  of  age,  but  who  had  twice  marched  to 
Paris,  said  to  me,  "  Whenever  Forward"*  ordered  us  to 
chars:e,  I  could  not  help  thinking  of  the  afternoon  on 
which  my  father  came  home  from  Hirschberg;  about 
two  months  before  he  died  of  grief,  and  told  us,  that 
he  had  brought  nothing  with  him,  for  he  had  not  been 
able  to  sell  his  web;  for  the «  manufacturer  had  said, 
that  the  English  would  not  allow  any  body  to  buy  from 
us,  because  the  French  would  not  allow  any  bod)  to 
buy  from  them  ;  and,  do  you  know.  Sir,  I  thought  it 
made  my  bayonet  sharper." — •'  At  least,  it  would  make 
your  heart  bitterer." — "  And  doesn't  a  bitter  heart," 
was  his  answer,  "  make  a  stronjj  arm,  (macht  nicht  das 
eiserne  Herz  eiserne  Hand?'''')  It  was  a  most  intelligi- 
ble, although  a  brief  commentary,  on  the  fire-side  ef- 
fects of  the  Milan  and  Berlin  decrees. 

Even  when  the  traveller  is  rejoicirjg  in  the  enter- 
prise, the  industry,  the  ingenuity,  and  prosperity  of  his 
own  country,  he  cannot  but  look  with  regret  on  the 
decay  which  is  creeping  over  these  mountain  vallies, 
and  the  industrious  and  kind-hearted  population  with 
which  they  are  thronged.  In  Hirschberg,  Schmiede- 
berg,  and  Liudshut,  the  three  great  manufacturing  sta- 
tions, 1  heard  but  one  voice,  that  of  misery  and  com- 
plaint. The  linen  exported  from  the  department  of 
Reichenbach  in  1817  had  fallen  half  a  million  of  dol- 
lars below  that  of  the  preceding  year.  A  great  num- 
ber of  manuf  scturing  houses  have  abandoned  the  trade  ; 
and,  in  the  neighb  niriuij  county  of  Glatz,  it  had  sunk 
so  low,  that,  in  18  l8,  it  was  found  necessary  to  provide 
other  employment  for  a  great  proportion  of  the  spin- 
ners and  weavers,  and  even  to  endeavour  to  transplant 
somf*  of  them  to  Silesia,  where  matters  were  still  some- 
what better. 

*  Bliicher. 


MIRSCHBERG.  3«7 

The  Silesian  weaver  labours  under  the  disadvantage 
of  being,  in  some  measure,  a  speculator.  Our  cotton- 
weavers  receive  from  the  nianulacturer  the  materials 
of  their  labour;  the  price  to  be  paid  for  anj  given  por- 
tion of  their  work  is  fixed  ;  however  small  the  pittance 
may  be,  from  the  vicissitudes  of  trade,  it  is  a  certainty, 
and  a  gain;  and,  if  the  workman  strain  his  weekly  toil 
to  the  uttermost,  he  knows  that  he  is  adding  to  his 
weekly  emoluments.  But  the  Silesian  manufacturers 
have  always  proceeded  on  a  diderent  footing;  the  ar- 
tisan himself  f)urcliases  the  yarn,  weaves  the  web,  and 
brings  it  to  market  as  a  merchant.  Thus  he  is  never 
certain  of  gaining  a  iarthing,  for  he  is  e  posed  to  all 
the  vicissitudes  of  the  market.  After  he  has  spent 
days  and  nights  at  his  loom,  scarcely  allowing  himself 
time  to  snatch  his  njibe»able  lueal,  he  knows  not  but 
he  may  be  forced  to  sell  his  cloth  at  a  price  which  will 
not  even  cover  the  expense  of  the  materials  wrought 
up  in  it.  Yet  he  must  sell;  the  poor  man  has  no  ca- 
pital but  his  hands;  he  cannot  reserve  his  work  for  a 
more  favourable  opportunity;  he  must  submit  to  star- 
vation to  procure  the  means  of  purchasing  new  mate- 
rials. Thirty  years  ago,  when  the  decay  of  the  Sile- 
sian manufactures  was  only  in  its  commencement,  you 
might  see  weavers  returning  from  the  town  to  their 
distant  villages,  with  tears  in  their  eyes,  and  not  a  six- 
pence for  the  expectant  family  at  home.  The  evil  is 
now  much  more  general. 

Amid  this  decay  of  their  own  prosperity,  it  is  only 
natui'al  that  they  should  manifest  considerable  irrita- 
tion at  the  more  forturiate  lot  of  Bt^tish  manufactures; 
and  this  irritation  has  just  as  naturallv  displayed  itself 
in  the  utmost  credulity  reii^arding  all  stories  about  the 
unfair  and  rascally  expedients  by  which,  according  to 
the  less  liberal,  this  preponderance  has  been  attained. 
So  late  as  1818,  it  was  printed  ii)  Silesia,  that  we  were 
in  the  habit  of  sending  Silesian  linen  to  foreign  mar- 
kets as  our  own  manufacture  ;  that  our  traders  forged 


3SS  SILESIA. 

the  stamps  and  marks  of  the  principal  Silesian  houses, 
and  purcfiased  their  linens,  for  the  purpose  of  cutting 
the.n  down  to  shorter  lengths  than  they  ought  to  be 
of,  and  exporting  them  in  this  falsified  form,  to  ruin  the 
character  of  the  Silesian  manufactures  !  Absurd  as  all 
this  was,  it  was  so  widely  credited,  that  the  principal 
dealers  sent  a  notice  to  be  inserted  in  the  newspapers 
of  Bremen  and  Hamburgh,  putting  all  quarters  of  the 
linen-buying  globe  on  their  guard  against  the  rascally 
tricks  of  English  merchants ;  and  they  complained 
much,  that  English  influence  prevented  its  insertion  in 
the  Hamburgh  papers.  It  is  gratifying,  however,  to 
know,  that  a  Silesian  defended  us  against  charges  which 
probably  never  reached  our  ears.  A  gentleman  of 
Hirschberg,. thoroughly  acquainted  w^th  the  linen  trade 
in  all  its  branches,  wrote  a  couple  of  articles  in  the 
Provinzial-B latter,  exposing  at  once  the  falsity  and  the 
absui  ditv  of  the  thin^^. 

The  inhabitants  of  this  little  town  seem  to  be  inor- 
dinately proud  of  their  rank  as  inhabitants  of  the  prin- 
cipal city  of  the  district,  and  to  ascribe  to  the  pleasures 
of  thvAr  own  society,  the  crowds  of  visitors  who  repair 
to  their  neigh b^urhood  in  summer  to  visit  the  moun- 
tain scenery,  or  use  the  warm  springs,  which  lie  in 
their  vicinity.  A  classical  Burgomaster  took  it  into 
bis  head,  that  a  low,  fir-clad  eminence  on  the  north  of 
the  town,  was  very  like  the  Grecian  seat  of  the  Muses  ; 
and  perhaps  he  knew,  that  Ooitz,  one  of  the  earliest 
natural  poels  of  Gf'rm?jny,  had  been  called  "the  Swan 
of  the  B  ber."  Accordingly,  the  hillock  was  baptized 
Mv-»unt  Helicon,  and  a  temple  was  erected  on  it,  and 
derjicated,  not  to  the  Muse^,  but  Friederich  Dem  Ein- 
Z5GEJV,  (Frederick  the  Unique.)  It  was  gratifying  to  a 
ScDtcfiman  to  find  the  works,  and  hear  the  praises  of 
Sf  Walter  Scott,  even  in  this  retired  corner.  All  over 
Germany,  his  name  is,  to  a  countryman,  almost  a  letter 
of  introduction. 


HIRSCHBERG.  329 

The  neighbourhood  abounds  with  mineral  waters, 
which,  added  to  the  beauty  of  the  scenery,  bring  into 
the  villages  in  summer  and  autumn  numbers  of  visitors, 
from  whom  the  nihabitants  gain  some  money,  and  learn 
some  bad  customs.  There  is  one  spring  so  impregna- 
ted with  oxygen,  that  the  common  people  crowd  to  it 
on  Sundays,  to  intoxicate  themselves  chea[)ly.  Warm- 
brunn,  howevei',  whose  sj^rings  are  hot,  is  the  most  cel- 
ebrated of  the  Silesian  baths,  and  particulaily  famous 
for  its  good  eifects  in  gout  and  rheumatism.  The  com- 
pany that  frequents  it  is  of  a  lower  class  than  that 
which  enjoys  voluj)tuous  idleness  at  Poplitz  and  Carls- 
bad; but  they  ape  all  the  follies  of  their  betters.  The 
changcableness  of  the  atmosphere,  and  the  inconstancy 
of  the  weather  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  mountains, 
oppose  themselves  to  the  healing  influence  of  tlie  wa- 
ters ;  and  it  is  law  at  Warmbrunn,  that  all  salutations, 
even  to  ladies,  shall  be  made,  not  by  uncovering,  but 
by  raising  the  hand  to  the  hat  d  la  militaire, 

Althouofh  the  inhabitants  of  some  of  the  surrounding 
•I  •  I         • 

villages  are  supported  by  makmg  and  cutting  cjass,  and 

by  a  number  of  extensive  chemical  manufactories,  the 
principal  employment  of  the  population  is,  after  agri- 
culture, the  preparation  of  flax  and  yarn,  and  the  wea- 
ving of  linen.  The  soil  is  not  so  fertile  as  in  the  plains 
which  surround  Breslau;  ajid  the  inconstancy  of  the 
climate  frequently  doubles  the  labour  and  ex[ienditure 
of  the  agriculturist.  The  whole  of  the  country  is  ex- 
posed to  two  enemies,  sudden  and  violent  showers  of 
rain,  and  destructive  thunder  storms.  The  former  arc 
called  by  the  country  people  fVolkenbriichc,  or  break- 
ings of  the  clouds ;  and  a  peasant  ex[)lained  thcjr  pro- 
duction, with  great  simplicity,  in  the  following  way. 
He  conceived  that  the  clouds  were  a  sort  of  thm  bags, 
just  strong  enough  to  contain  the  rain,  and  that  all  went 
on  well  so  long  as  they  floated  about  freely  in  the  air; 
but  that,  when  the  wind  drove  them  against  the  sides 
or   summits  of  the  mountains,  the    bag   burst,  and  the 

42 


SSO  SILESIA. 

rain  dercended  in  a  deluge.     The   hypothesis   is  quite 
as  scientific  as  Strej^siades's  theory  of  thunder.     These 
rains  are  never  ol  long  continuance,  but  they  do  incal- 
Cilable  dam  tge.     Froiu  the  nature  of  the  country,  the 
greater   part  of  the  cultivated  grounds  lie  along  slopes 
m.'re  or  less  steep.      In   spring,   after    the    fields  have 
been  sown,  a  Wolkenbruch  often  sweeps  away   soil  and 
seed  together.      In  summer,  when   the  grain    is  consid- 
erably above  ground,  the  torrent    fiom  the  clouds,  by 
carrying  away    the     earth,   leaves  its    roots    bare,   or 
drow^ns  it  in  mud.     Thunder  storms    are    equally    fre- 
quent and  destructive.     In  the    end   of  April    and  be- 
ginnmg  of  M  ly,  it  thundered  daily  for  three  weeks  to- 
gether.    Ail  the  houses  in    the    villages  are    built    of 
wood,  and   the    roofing  consists  of  thin  pieces  of  the 
same  material,  nailed  upon  each  other  like  slates.  Even 
the  upper  part  ol'  the  church    towers,   which  are  most 
exposed    to    lightrilng,    are    ujiiformly   of   wood.     The 
consequence    is,   that   in    this   part    of  Silesia,  there  is 
scarcely  a  village  or  a  church    which   has  not  been  set 
on  fire  by  lightning,   and    many   of  them  have  had  this 
misfortune   oftener   than    once.     In  the  towns,  as  well 
as  in  the  country,  all  who  can  afford  the    expense  arm 
their  houses  with  conductors,  and  the  frequency  of  the 
practice  shows  the  greatness  of  the   danger.     So  cer- 
tain is  it  held,  that  the  lightning  will   produce  a  confla- 
gration somewhere,  that,  the  moment    the    storm  com- 
mences, the   persons    w  ho   have    charge  of  the  fire-en- 
gines must  repair  to  their  posts,  and  be  in  readmess  to 
act.     A  Protestant  clergyman  of  Hirschberg  was  killed 
in  his  pulpit.     A  thunder  storm  burst   over    the  town, 
on  a  Sunday,  while  he   was  preaching;  the   top  of  the 
pulpit  was  suspended  from   the   ceiling    of  the  church 
by  :m  iron  chain  ;  the  lightning  struck  the  spire,  pene- 
trated the  roof,  and  descended    along  the  chain.     The 
wig  of  the  old  man,  who  was   continuing   his  discourse 
undisturbed,  was  seen  in   a   blaze  ;  he  raised  his  hands 
1o  his  head,  fi^ave  a  convulsive  start,   and  sunk  dead  in 


HIRSCIIBERG.  SSI 

Ills  pulpit.  The  livid  traces  of  the  llghtniiioj  are  still 
visible  on  the  stone  bannister  of  the  pulpit  stau",  which 
it  split,  in  making  its  way  to  tlie  pavement. 

The  Ziicken,  an  impetuous  and  romantic  torrent, 
which  descends  from  the  western  part  of  the  moun- 
tains to  join  the  Buber  at  Hirschbcrg,  sometimes  |  re- 
sents a  phenomenon,  of  which  the  Silesian  naturalists 
have  as  ^eA  given  no  satisfactory  explanation.  Its  wa- 
ters suddenly  disappear,  and  always  at  some  distance 
from  its  souice  ;  the  channel  remains  (^yy-,  except 
where  irregularities  in  the  bottom  detain  a  portion  of 
the  water  motionless  in  pools,  or  the  stream  remains 
tranquil  behind  mill-dams.  The  period  of  the  absence 
of  the  river  varies  from  one  to  ibur  hours;  it  is  then 
observed  to  rise,  at  first,  imperceptibly  ;  but  speedily 
it  regathers  its  usual  strength — (ills  its  channel — thun- 
ders down  its  falls — overilovvs  the  mill-dams — and  hast- 
ens on  to  the  Bober,  as  impetuous  and  noisy  as  it  w^as 
three  hours  before.  The  cause  of  the  phenomenon 
cannot  be  at  the  sources  of  the  river,  for  on  tl»e  last 
occasion  on  which  it  was  observed,  it  began  only  be- 
yond Petersdorf,  a  village  not  more  than  five  miles 
above  Hirschberg ;  the  mill  of  Marienthal,  which  lies 
much  nearer  the  source  of  the  Zacken,  never  sto[)ped 
for  a  moment,  while  from  Peicrsdorf  to  the  B'.ber,  the 
channel  was  dry.  As  it  always  happens  in  December 
or  March,  the  explanation  generally  given  is,  that  its 
course  is  stopped  by  frost.  This  is  impossible  ;  frost 
would  act  much  more  vigorously  on  the  shallow  marsh- 
es, high  up  on  the  mountains,  from  which  the  river 
springs,  than  on  the  large  and  impetuous  stream  at  a 
much  lower  elevation.  Besides,  on  the  day  the  phe- 
nomenon happened,  the  thermometer  was  only  — 2°  of 
Reaumur,  while,  during  the  two  preceding  months,  it 
had  varied  from — 5°  to — 12",  without  any  change  be- 
ing observed  in  the  river.  Moreover,  if  frost  cculd  so 
suddenly  stop  a  full  impetuous  torrent,  and  so  suddenly 
let  it  loose    again,  after  an  hour's   interruption,  it  cer« 


3SQ  SILESIA. 

tainly  would  not  spare  the  small  and  shallow  brooks 
which  are  its  humble  tributaries  ;  yet,  while  the  Zack- 
en  is  gone,  these  brooks  keep  leaping  down  into  his  de- 
serted channel  with  their  customary  liveliness.  Ano- 
ther hypothesis  is,  that,  in  some  narrow  part  of  the 
channel,  a  mass  of  snow  falls  down  into  the  bed,  and 
dams  up  the  river,  till  his  impetuosity  washes  it  away. 
But  these  Silesian  avalanches  are  gratuitous  creations. 
Though  the  mountains  were  covered  with  snow,  there 
was  none  in  tiie  vallies,  in  which  alone  the  phenome- 
non occurred.  Again,  such  an  interruption  would  have 
pi'oduced,  in  a  few  minutes,  an  inundation  of  the  river 
above  the  pomt  at  which  it  happened,  or  would  have 
forced  the  river  into  a  new  channel;  but  there  was  no 
trace  of  either.  The  banks,  likewise,  of  the  Zacken, 
even  where  his  ch^nn*  I  is  most  confined,  scarcely  ren- 
der such  a  thing  possible.  Thoy  are  either  so  low, 
that  snow,  when  it  has  once  fallen,  will  lie  tranquil  till 
it  dissolves;  or  they  are  so  preci[)itous,  that  no  snow 
can  rest  upon  them  at  all  ;  or  they  are  darkened  by 
ancient  pines,  whose  umbrella-like  branches  receive  the 
feathery  shower,  without  ever  allowing  it  to  reach  the 
ground,  and  throw  it  off,  in  silvery  dust,  at  every  breath 
of  wind  that  blows.  In  the  middle  of  June  I  walked 
through  the  forests  which  hang  over  the  fall  of  the 
Zackerle,  and  the  course  of  the  Zacken,  beneath  a  ca- 
nopy of  snow,  resting  on  the  branches  above,  while  vio- 
lets and  wood-hyacinths  were  blossoming  richly  below. 
The  latest  hypothesis  takes  it  for  granted,  that  when- 
ever an  interruption  of  the  river  of  this  kind  takes 
place,  some  abyss  has  opened  in  some  part  of  its  chan- 
nel ;  into  this  gulf  its  waters  pour  themselves,  till  it  is 
either  filled,  or  the  aperture  stopped  by  the  blocks  of 
granite  which  the  torrent  hurls  down  along  with  it ; 
that  it  then  flows  over  the  aperture  which,  for  a  cou- 
ple of  hours,  it  had  flowed  into^  and  continues  its  usual 
course.  This  is  giving  much  too  literal  a  meaning  to 
^^  the   thirsty  earth  ;"  these   subterranean  drunkards. 


HIRSCHBERG.  333 

and  unknown  throats  in  the  rocky  channel,  arc  altoge- 
ther gratuitous.  It  is  not  here,  as  in  Carniola,  where 
we  see  them,  with  our  own  eyes,  swallowing  up  whole 
rivers;  here  we  have  granite  and  basalt  to  deal  with, 
instead  of  porous  calcareous  rock.  When  geologists 
take  "natural  convulsions"  into  their  haiids,  science  is 
sure  to  be  still  more  mortally  convulsed.  A  part  of  the 
river,  called  the  Schwarze  IVog,  has  even  been  pouited 
out  as  the  spot  through  whose  bottom  the  thirsty  spi- 
rits of  the  Riesengebirge  suck  in  the  waters  oi  the 
Zacken.  Now,  the  Schwarze  Wog  is,  no  doubt,  a  very 
ugly,  deep,  dark,  dismal  pool,  in  which  even  the  river 
seems  to  stand  still,  for  a  moment,  eddying  back  in  hor- 
ror from  the  gloomy  walls  above  him  ;  but  there  is 
nothing  whatever  about  it  to  make  any  one  believe 
that  there  is  a  funnel  below  ;  and  why  should  this  fun- 
nel open  only  now  and  then,  and  open  only  in  winter?* 
Though  the  Schneekoppe  rises  to  the  height  of  4900 
feet,  the  ascent  is  by  no  means  difficult,  except  towards 
the  very  summit.  To  climb  it  from  Hirschberg,  and 
return,  would  be  no  overpowering  day's  work  ;  but,  as 
the  natives  would  esteem  it  barbarism  not  to  be  on  the 
top  when  the  sun  rises,  the  night  is  commonly  spent  in 
a  haude^  or  hut,  very  near  the  summit  of  the  mountain. 
The  scenery  round  the  bottom  is  wild  and  romantic  in 
the  extreme  ;  the  prospect  below,  as,  at  every  new 
ascen',  you  look    back  on  the  vale  of  Hirschberg,  with 

*  The   recorded   instances  of  the  disappearance  of  the  Zacken 
are  the  following-  : — 

1703,  March  17,  from  6  to  9  A.  M. 

1746,  March  Wme  not  observed. 

1773,  March  19,  from  5  to  9  A.  M. 

1785,  Dec.  3,         three  hours. 

1797,  March  13,  from  4  to  6  A    M. 

1797,  March  19,  from  5  to  7  A.  M. 

1810,  Dec.     10,  from  6i  to  Ih  A.  M. 
It   must  not  be  supposed  that  these   are  the   only   occasions  on 
which   the   phenomenon  has  presented  itself,  or  that  the   first   oi" 
them  was  the   earliest ;  but  they  are  the   only  instances  of  which 
any  account  has  been  preserved. 


334  SILESIA. 

its  numerous  green  heights,  scattered  villages,  and 
laughing  fields,  is  delicious;  but  still  there  is  a  want  of 
imposing  masses  of*  water,  though  there  is  no  want  of 
rapid  and  cheerful  rivulets.  On  a  scanty  and  bold  pro- 
jection of  the  rock  stand  the  ruins  of  the  Kienast,  so 
separated  on  all  sides  from  the  body  of  the  mountain 
by  precipitous  dells,  except  where  a  narrow  ledge  on 
the  south  connects  it  with  the  hill,  that  the  rising  of  a 
single  draw-bridge  must  have  rendered  it  utteily  mac- 
cessible.  Enough  of  the  outer  wall  still  remains,  to 
preserve  the  u^emory  of  the  i'air  Cunigunda,  ecjually 
celebrated  for  her  charms  and  her  cruelty.  She  was 
the  daughter  and  heiress  of  tlie  lord  of  the  Kienast, 
and  the  most  bloommg  of  Silesian  beauties.  Her 
wealth  and  charms  attracted  crowds  of  knightly  wooers 
to  her  father's  castle  ;  but  the  maiden,  like  another 
Camilla,  was  entirely  devoted  to  the  boisterous  exer- 
cise of  the  chace,  in  which  she  excelled  many  of  her 
suitors;  she  would  listen  to  no  tale  of  love,  and  dread- 
ed marriage  as  she  did  a  prison.  At  length,  to  free 
herself  from  all  importunities,  slie  made  a  solemn  vow, 
never  to  give  her  hand  but  to  the  knight  who  should 
ride  round  the  castle  on  the  outer  wall.  Now,  this 
wall  is  not  only  too  narrow  to  furnish  a  secure  or  pleas- 
ing promenade  in  ar»y  circumstances,  but,  throughout 
nearly  its  whole  course,  it  runs  alorp  the  vvvy  br^isk  of 
hi'^^^uR  peri:  ices,  and,  in  one  place,  hangs  over  a 
frightful  abyss,  which,  till  this  day,  bears  the  name  of 
Hell.  The  number  of  the  lady's  lovers  rapidly  dimin- 
ished. The  more  prudent  wisely  considered,  that  the 
prize  was  not  worth  the  risk  ;  the  vain  proposed  them- 
selves to  the  trial,  in  the  hope  that  their  presence 
would  mollify  Cunigunda's  heart,  and  procure  a  dispen- 
sation from  the  hard  condition  ;  but  the  mountain-beau- 
ty was  proof  against  all  arts,  and,  when  the  moment  of 
danger  came,  the  courage  of  the  suitor  generally  gave 
way.  History  has  not  recorded  the  precise  number  of 
those  who  actually  made    the  attempt ;  it  is  only  cer- 


THE  SCHNEEKOPPE.  SS5 

tain,  that  every  one  of  them  broke  his  neck,  (as  he 
well  deserved  ;)  and  the  lady  lived  on  in  her  wild  and 
virgin  independence.  At  length,  a  young  and  hand- 
some knight  appeared  ctt  the  castle  <<ate,  and  request- 
ed to  be  admitted  to  the  piesmce  of  its  mistress,  that 
he  might  try  his  fortune.  Cunigunda  received  him, 
and  her  hour  was  come;  his  manly  beauty,  the  cour- 
tesy of  his  behaviour,  and  his  noble  spirit,  made  her 
repent,  for  the  first  time,  of  the  price  which  she  had 
set  upon  her  hand.  Having  received,  in  [)rescnce  of 
the  inmates  of  the  castle,  her  promise  to  become  his 
bride,  if  he  should  return  in  safety  from  the  trial,  he 
rode  forth  to  the  wall,  accompanied  by  the  tears  and 
wishes  of  the  repentant  beauty.  In  a  short  time,  a 
shout  from  the  menials  announced  that  the  adventure 
had  been  achieved;  and  Cunigunda,  exulting  that  she 
was  conquered,  hastened  into  the  court,  which  the  tri- 
umphant knight  was  just  entering,  to  meet  his  ardent 
caresses.  But  the  knight  stood  aloof,  gloomy  and  se- 
vere. "  I  can  claim  you,"  said  he  ;  "but  I  am  come, 
and  I  have  risked  my  life,  not  to  win  your  hand,  but  to 
humble  your  pride,  and  punish  your  barbarity" — and 
thereupon  he  read  her  a  harsh  lecture  on  the  cruelty 
and  arrogance  of  her  conduct  towards  her  suitors.  The 
spirit  of  chivalry  weeps  at  recording,  that  he  finished 
his  oration  by  giving  the  astonished  beauty  a  box  on 
the  ear,  sprung  into  his  saadle,  and  gallopped  forth 
from  the  gate.  It  was  the  Landgrave  Albert  of  Thu- 
ringia,  already  a  married  man,  and  who  had  long  train- 
ed his  favourite  steed  to  this  perilous  exercise.  The 
memory  of  the  ulterior  fate  of  Cunigunda  has  not  sur- 
vived. 

Such  traditions,  and  especially  the  exploits  of  the 
mischievous  spirit  Number-Nip,  \Rubczahl,)*  who  has 

*  This  perished  spirit,  so  well  known  from  onr  nursery  tales, 
has  left  behind  him  a  very  uncertain  character.  The  lejrends  still 
preserved  amonp^  the  inhabitants  of  the  mountain  vallies.  some- 


336  SILESIA. 

disappeared  from  the  Mountains  of  the  Giant  since  a 
chapel  was  built  on  the  Schneekoppe,  though  his 
pulpit  and  garden  still  remain,  commonly  while  away 
the  hours  of  night  among  the  twenty  or  thirty  wander- 
time?  represent  him  as  the  most  good-natnred  of  spirits,  and  some- 
times as  tak'ng  delia^ht  in  nothing  but  doing  mi'jrhief.  He  stood 
GUI  for  a  short  space,  after  the  erection  of  a  chapel  on  the  summit 
of  his  mountain,  in  the  end  of  the  seventeenth  century,  but  the 
first  time  that  mass  was  performed  in  it  was  the  signal  for  his  de- 
parture. Though  he  never  re-appeared  himself,  his  host  of  tiny 
subjects,  loth  to  quit  their  ancient  abodes,  lingered  long  behind 
him,  till  bad  usage,  about  tifty  years  ago,  drove  them  away.  They 
employed  themselves,  in  the  bowels  of  the  mountain,  in  manufac- 
turing all  sorts  of  household  utensils,  which  they  readily  gave,  or 
lent  out,  to  the  neighbouring  villagers,  on  receiving  a  small  meat- 
offering and  drink-offering  in  return  The  daughter  of  a  villager 
was  about  to  be  married.  Her  father  went  up  to  "  Riibezahl's 
Habitation,"  a  collection  of  huge  granite  blocks  tossed  together  in 
wild  confusion,  and  requested  the  spirits  to  furnish  the  bride- 
groom's house,  and  lend  him  the  necessary  dishes  and  utensils  for 
the  wedding  festival.  His  prayer  was  granted,  with  the  condition 
that,  on  the  marriage  night,  he  would  place  a  tixed  portion  of  the 
marriage  supper  on  a  rock  which  was  pointed  out  to  him  and  re- 
turn the  spits,  and  knives  and  forks,  next  day.  The  spirits  kept 
their  word,  but  the  niggardly  churl  broke  his;  he  ate  up  the  sup- 
per, and  retained  the  dishes  The  spirits  then  finally  resolved  to  de- 
sert forever  so  ungrateful  a  people.  In  the  course  of  the  following' 
night,  these  little,  kindly  creatures,  not  one  of  them  more  than  a 
foot  and  a  half  high,  were  seen  marching,  in  long  array,  through 
the  standing  corn,  which,  next  morning,  scarcely  seemed  to  have 
been  touched,  and  they  are  supposed  to  have  joined  their  old 
master  in  some  region  more  fnendiy  to  supernatural  spirits,  and 
more  grateful  for  supernatural  assistance. 

This  matter,  tritiing  as  it  is,  furnishes  an  amusing  instance  of 
the  obstinacy  with  vvhich  men  who  pretend  to  learning  will  some- 
times write  downright  nonsense,  and  of  the  huge  interval  that 
separates  artificial  erudition  from  straight-forward  clearness  of  in- 
tellect. A  disputed  text  in  Virgil  or  Homer  could  not  have  pro- 
duced more  various  readings,  than  the  name  of  this  amusing  goblin 
has  done.  His  name,  Rubezahl^  means  just,  Turnip-number.  Our 
translator  of  the  legends  concerninof  him  was,  therefore,  perfectly 
right  in  calling  him  Number-Nip,  although  he  inverted  the  posi- 
tion of  the  elements  of  the  original  compound,  and  the  first  tale  in 
his  collection,  gives  the  true,  popular,  legendary  origin  of  the 
name,  an  origin  just  as  authentic  as  the  existence  of  the  spirit  him- 


THE  SCHNEEKOPPE.  S37 

ers  who  assemble  at  evening  from  different  parts  of 
the  mountains,  in  the  Hempelshaude,  to  start,  long 
before  the  sun,  for  the  rest  of  the  ascent.  There 
are  no  conveniences  for  sleeping  in  the  rude  chalet^ 
and  even  very  few  for  eating  and  drinking;  but  com- 
pany dispels  fatigue,  and  those  who  have  some  fore- 
thought load  then'  guides  with  the  necessaries  of  life. 
On  this  occasion,  a  considerable  part  of  the  motley 
assembla£;c  consisted  of  Burschen;  they  were  extreme- 
ly sociable,  and  sung  tlicir  songs  all  night  long,  nearly 
four  thousand  ieet  above  the  plain,  with  infinite  glee. 
About  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  the  word  was  given 
to  move,  and  twenty  minutes  easy  ascent  placed  the 
whole  party,  not  on  the  summit  of  the  mountain,  but 
on  the  top  of  the  long  ridge,  four  thousand  four  hun- 
dred feet  in  elevation,  on  which  his  sfcep  and  pyra- 
midal summit  rests  as  on  a  base.  The  most  trou- 
blesome thing  in  the  ascent  is,  the  quantity  of  thickly 
tangled  knieholz  or  krummholz^  knee- wood  or  crooked- 
wood,  which  covers  the  sides  of  the  Rlesengebi rge,  as 
it  does  so  many  of  the  Styrian  mountains.  It  is  a  spe- 
cies of  fir;   but,  instead  of  growing  upright,  it  creeps 

self,  and  in  this  lies  the  fictitious  fitness  of  the  tradition.  But  eru- 
dite Germans,  though  they  allow  that  the  appellation,  as  it 
stands,  means  Turaip-nuraher,  insist  on  referring  it  to  a  classical 
orighi,  or  finding:  in  it  some  disguise  of  a  foreign  phrase.  One 
maintains,  that  Hd/bezafil  is  a  corruption  of  Riesenzahl,  (Giant-num- 
ber,) and  peoples  the  Schneekoppe  with  whole  legions  of  Goliaths. 
A  second,  adopting  the  giants,  supposes,  that  the  Silesian  boors,  at 
a  time  when  they  could  neither  read  nor  write,  called  the  spirit 
Giant-number,  because  they  believed  him  to  have  piled  their 
mountains  upon  each  other,  as  the  giants  did  Pelion  on  Ossa  to 
storm  Olympus.  Excellent!  The  third,  likewise,  is  both  gigan- 
tesque  and  classical.  According  to  him,  the  name  is  merely  a  cor- 
ruption of  Ries  Encelad^  the  Giant  Enceladus  Better  still  !  A 
fourth  runs  away  to  France,  to  find  the  origin  of  the  pure  German 
name  of  a  German  hobgoblin,  and  is  quite  sure  that  hUbczahl  is  only 
a  corruption  of  jRoz  dcs  Fallecs.  Best  of  all!  Somebody  or  other 
has  very  justly  remarked,  that  there  are  things  so  close  to  a  man's 
eyes,  that  he  cannot  see  th(^m. 

43 


338  SILESIA. 

alono;  the  s'lound,  in  which  most  of  its  branches  fix 
themselves,  and  vegetate  hke  new  roots.  Some  of 
them,  however,  grow  upwards,  but  extremely  stunted, 
seldom  reaching  the  height  of  ten  feet.  It  diminishes 
in  quantity  as  the  elevation  increases,  and  the  long 
ridge  of  the  chain  wears,  in  general,  no  other  covering 
than  scattered  fragments  or  decomposed  portions  of 
its  own  rock.  Some  of  these  fragments  of  granite  are 
of  great  size  ;  one  of  the  Dreisteine  is  a  solid  mass, 
fifty  feet  high.  The  proper  summit  itself  is  equally 
bare,  and  much  steeper  than  the  lower  part  of  the 
mountain.  It  rises,  in  a  somewhat  pyramidal  form, 
between  five  and  six  hundred  feet  above  its  elevated 
base  ;  the  ascent  is  fatiguing,  for  the  loose  stones,  over 
which  you  must  mount,  are  perpetually  giving  way 
beneath  vour  feet.  The  summit  is  not  broad,  and  the 
greater  part  of  it  is  occupied  by  a  small  chapeK  m 
which  mass  is  performed  thrice  a  year.  As  it  is  never 
open  but  on  these  occasions,  it  affords  no  shelter  to  the 
traveller  amid  the  drizzling  vapours,  and  passing  snow- 
showers  which  so  frequently  visit  the  Schneekoppe, 
even  in  the  heat  of  summer;  but  it  protected  us 
against  a  bitter  north-west  wis^l,  by  receiving  us  under 
its  leeward  side,  just  as  the  first  faint  strokes  of  light 
were  beginning  to  glimmer  over  the  far  distant  Carpa- 
thians. When,  at  length,  the  sun  himself  came  forth, 
the  German  wanderers  displayed  an  example  of  that 
enthusiastic  feeling  which  distinguishes  their  country- 
men. There  happened  to  be  an  old  clergyman  in  tlje 
company  ;  the  rising  orb  had  no  sooner  burst  upon  us, 
illuminating  first  our  mountain  pinnacle,  and  then  light- 
ing up  the  Bohemian  summits  to  the  south,  "  like 
gems  upon  the  brow  of  night,"  than  he  took  off  his 
liat,  and  saying,  "  My  children,  let  us  praise  the  god  of 
nature,"  began  to  sing  one  of  Luther's  psalms.  The 
others  joined  him  with  much  devotion  ;  even  the 
Burschen  behaved  with  greater  gravity  than  might 
have  been  expected. 


ADERSBACH.  339 

At  such  an  elevation,  and  with,  on  one  side,  at  least, 
a  comparatively  open  country,  the  prospect  is  neces- 
sarily extensive  ;  but  it  is  likewise  very  varied  in  its 
character.  The  rich,  the  cultivated,  and  populous 
scenery*  is  on  the  north,  towards  Silesia ;  on  the  south, 
towards  Bohemia,  all  is  sublime  and  terrific.  In  this 
dii'ection,  the  side  of  the  mountain  yawns  at  once  into 
an  irrei^ular  rocky  abyss,  formed  of  the  Riesengrund 
and  A  ipeagrnnd,  which  presents  an  almost  perpendicu- 
lar descent  of  two  thousand  feet.  Behind,  the  pros- 
pect is  filled  up  with  imposing  masses  of  mountain  and 
precipice;  and  here  and  there  some  of  the  small  Bohe- 
mian towns  are  indistinctly  seen  through  the  vallies  that 
divide  them.  To  the  west,  likewise,  the  view  consists 
principally  of  mountain;  but  on  the  north,  the  most 
beautiful  and  fei'tile  part  of  Silesia,  from  Hirschberg 
to  the  Oder,  is  spread  out  like  a  map.  Even  Breslau 
IS  said  to  be  sometimes  visible  ;  and  it  is  not  its  distance 
that  can  place  it  beyond  the  eye ;  for,  in  a  right  line,  it 
cannot  be  more  than  forty-five  miles  from  the  vSchnee- 
koppe  ;  but  it  lies  in  a  low  level  country,  and  is  con- 
founded with  the  plain. 

The  descent  along  the  eastern  slope  of  the  mountain 
to  Schmiedeberg  is  more  easy  and  gradual  than  on  the 
op[)osite  side.  The  country  still  continues  equally  rich 
and  populous;  Schmiedeberg  and  Landshut  are  smaller 
towns  than  Hirschberg,  and  are  languishing  under  the 
same  decay  of  manufactures.  Landshut  is  close  upon 
the  Bohemian  frontier,  and  just  beyond  the  confine  are 
the  rocks  of  Adersbach.  They  are  apparently  the  re- 
mains of  a  mountain  of  sandstone,  which  has  been  split 
in  all  directions,  and  much  of  its  matter  either  decom- 
posed, or  washed  away  by  water,  so  that  you  can  lite- 
rally walk  through  its  interior,  as  if  through  the  streets 
of  a  city.  It  is  on  a  much  larger  scale  than  the  rocks 
of  the  Saxon  Switzerland,  and  its  masses  do  not  so  uni- 
formly exhibit  traces  of  the  action  of  water;  for, 
though  the   edges    are   sometimes   round,   they  are  as 


340  SILESIA. 

often  perfecllj  sharp  and  angular.     The  alleys  which 
lead  through  the  mountain  vary  extremely  in  width  ;  in 
some  parts  they  are  so  narrow  that  it  is  difficult  to  pass 
throuo;h  them  ;  in  others  they  form  spacious  walks,  or 
swell  out  into  ample  courts.     In  general,  they  are  open 
above,  the  mountain  being  separated   to  its  very  sum- 
mit; but  this  is  not  universally  the  case,  for  sometimes 
the  rocky  sides  gradually  approach  as  they  ascend,  and 
meet  above  in  an  angle.     At  one  place,  a  rivulet  which 
flows  along  the  summit  rushes  down  through  an    aper- 
ture into  the  bowels  of  the  mass,  and  forms,  in  its  inte- 
rior, a  very    brisk  and   noisy   cascade.     The   walls  of 
rock  themselves   which   line  these  natural  streets  sel- 
dom present  any  extent  of  unbroken  surface  ;  they  are 
ahvays  split    by  secondary    apertures,  which  are  much 
more   numerous  below    than   towards  the   top,  seldom 
run  up  through  the  whole  extent  of  the  rock,  and  com- 
monly terminate  in  an  acute    angle,     in  the    outskirts 
of  the    whole  are   some    insulated    masses    of  singular 
forms.     The  most  remarkable  goes  under  the  name  of 
the  Zuckerhut,  or   Sugar-loaf,    but   it   is    inverted.     It 
stands  alone  on  the    plain,   at  some  distance  from  the 
main  body   of    the  rocks ;  where   it    springs  from  the 
ground,  it  is  very  narrow  ;  but,  as  it  rises,  which  it  does 
to  a  height  of  fifty-five    or   sixty   feet,    it    regularly  in- 
creases in  breadth,  presenting  precisely  the  appearance 
of  a  huge  cone  placed  on  its  apex.     The  pool  of  water 
in  which  it  stands  was  formed  by  the  curiosity  of  some 
strangers  who  dug  round  its  base,  to  ascertain  whether 
it  still  continued  to   diminish    under  ground,   and  how 
deep  it  was  set  in  the  earth.     They  had  not  gone  far, 
when  they  met    with  the    solid  sandstone  rock  below^, 
of  which  this  mass  is  merely  a  projection. 

The  whole  extent  of  this  rocky  wilderness  is  fully 
four  miles  in  length,  but  not  more  than  two  in  breadth. 
It  is,  in  fact,  a  branch  of  the  sandstone  ridge  which 
runs  up  into  the  county  of  Glatz;  and  the  nearer  you 
approach  the  main  body  of  the  chain,  from  which  this 


ABERSBACII.  341 

Is,  as  it  were,  an  oft-shoot,  the  more  compact  does  the 
rock  becoQie ;  one  alley  terminates  after  another,  and 
at  last  there  remains  only  the  solid  impenetrable  mouu- 
taln,  with  its  dark  covering  of  firs.  Few  of  the  houses, 
if  the  regular  walls  which  run  along  these  alleys  may 
be  so  termed,  are  more  than  100  feet  high.  All  the 
theories  which  have  been  started  to  explain  the  origin 
of  the  phenomenon  terminate  in  this,  that  water  hag 
gradually  washed  away  the  softer  parts  of  the  rock. 
This  supposes  a  very  strangely  heterogeneous  rock  ;  be- 
cause that  softer  substance,  whatever  It  may  have  been, 
must  have  constituted  great  part  of  the  whole,  and 
must  have  been  dispersed  through  It  In  Irregular  mass- 
es ;  for  all  the  innumerable  triangular  apertures  In  the 
walls,  broad  below,  and  terminating  In  a  point  above, 
not  penetrating  deep  Into  the  rock,  nor  splitting  It  to 
its  very  summit,  must  have  been  filled  with  this  more 
yielding  substance.  There  Is  no  reason  to  believe  that 
the  rock  was  not  entirely  homogeneous ;  and  the  soil. 
In  the  different  passages.  Is  a  deposition  of  sand,  evi- 
dently from  the  main  body  of  the  mountain.  Then 
comes  the  difficulty,  why  certain  parts  should  have 
been  washed  away,  and  others  spared  ?  The  sharp, 
angular  edges  of  the  different  masses,  likewise,  are  not 
easily  reconciled  with  the  action  of  the  water  with 
which  they  must  have  been  so  long  in  contact. 

Proceeding  eastwards  from  Adersbach  to  Glatz,  the 
capital  of  the  fertile  and  beautiful  country  to  which  it 
gives  Its  name,  you  still  continue,  for  some  miles.  In  Bo- 
hemia, and  it  Is  impossible  not  to  remark  the  great  dlf» 
ference  between  the  population  on  the  Austrian  side, 
and  that  on  the  Prussian  side  of  the  frontier.  Hither- 
to, so  far  as  you  have  come  In  Lower  Silesia,  all  has 
been  industry  and  activity  ;  you  have  scarcely  arrived 
at  Adersbach,  when  Idleness  and  beggary  surround  you 
in  a  thousand  forms.  The  country  is  delicious;  Brau- 
nau,  the  only  Bohemian  town  through  vv'hich  I  passed, 
lies  in  a  lovely  plain,  offering  every  thing  to  supply  the 


342  SILESIA. 

wants  of  men,  and  running  up,  on  all  sides,  into  roman- 
tic, wooded  platforms,  which  present  a  great  deal  to 
gratify  their  taste  ;  but  the  population  seemed  to  be 
utterly  sunk  in  poverty,  ignorance,  and  superstition. 
Mendicity  crowds  upon  you  with  as  much  frequency 
and  importunacy  as  in  the  States  of  the  Church  ;  the 
people  sing  hymns  to  the  Virgin,  and  will  beg  rather 
than  work.  The  beggary  diminishes,  but  unfortunate- 
ly the  ignorance  and  superstition  still  continue,  after 
you  have  re-entered  the  Prussian  dominions  at  Wun- 
schelburg.  Under  Catholic  Austria,  every  mode  of 
oppression  and  discouragement  was  practised  against 
the  Silesian  Protestants;  though  in  many  places  they 
were  the  more  numerous  party,  it  was  esteemed  a 
great  boon  that  they  were  allowed  to  have  six  church- 
es in  the  whole  province.  When  Protestant  Freder- 
ick conquered  it,  and  made  good  his  possession  by  seven 
years  of  the  most  wonderful  exertions  that  ever  mon- 
arch put  forth,  he  placed  both  parties  on  the  same  foot- 
ing ;  and,  where  Catholics  were  then  numerous,  they 
have  not  diminished.  At  Alberndorf,  a  village  between 
Wunschelburg  and  Glatz,  I  was  assured  that,  at  least, 
sixty  thousand  pilgrims  repair  to  it  annually  to  pray  in 
its  gaudy,  gimcrack  church,  and  meditate  up  an  emi- 
nence, along  the  slope  of  which  some  fool  or  another 
has  built  a  crowd  of  small  chapels,  in  exact  imitation, 
as  these  poor  people  most  conscientiously  believe,  of 
Mount  Calvary.  Their  roads  are  unpassable  ;  but  at 
every  half  mile  a  virgin  is  stuck  upon  a  tree.  One  was 
adorned  with  an  inscription  which  hailed  her  as  "  The 
true  Lily  of  the  Holy  Trinity,  and  the  Blooming  Rose 
of  Celestial  Voluptuousness  I""^ 

The  long  journey  from  Glatz,  through  Upper  Sile- 
sia, to  Cracow,  presents  little  that  fs  interesting.     The 

*  Sey  ge^rlisset  !  Du  wahres  Lilchea 
Der  heiligen  Dreyf«ltigkeit ! 
Sey  gegriisset  !  Du  bliihende  Rose 
Per  himmlischen  Wollustbarkeit ! 


GLATZ.  343 

uearer  one  approaches  to  the  frontiers  of  Poland,  the 
farther  he  Vccedes  from  tlic  Industry  and  intelhgcnce 
of  the  pure  German  portions  of  tlie  |)rovince;  instead 
of  Saxon  activity  and  lIvcHness,  he  encounters  Pohsh 
misery  and  servihty.  Till  the  middle  of  the  twelfth 
century,  Silesia  formed  an  integral  part  of  Poland,  and 
has  received  all  its  arts  and  industry  from  German 
colonists.  It  is  the  same  tliing  In  Hungary,  Transyl- 
vania, and  tlie  Bannat;  the  most  flourishmg  spots  are 
uniformly  those  which,  for  centuries,  have  been  the 
abodes  of  German  settlers.  Their  introduction  Into 
Silesia  was  a  hold  experiment.  The  province  had 
already  become  an  appanage  of  a  younger  branch  of 
the  sovereign  family  of  Poland  ;  Bodislaus,  one  of 
three  sons  among  whom  it  was  divided  on  the  death 
of  their  common  father,  received  Breslau,  and  the 
greater  part  of  what  now  forms  Middle  Silesia.  Know- 
ing that  his  relation  on  the  Polish  throne  entertained 
designs  against  Silesia,  and  believing  that,  in  case  of  so 
unequal  a  struggle,  he  could  not  repose  confidence  in 
his  Silesian  subjects,  whom  time  and  custom,  with  all 
the  deep-rooted  prejudices  which  they  generate,  had 
tied  to  the  Polish  crown,  he  adopted  the  expedient  of 
mixing  his  natural  born  subjects  with  foreigners  who 
should  gradually  acquire  the  predonnnance,  and,  hav- 
ing no  natural  attachment  to  the  power  which  he 
dreaded,  would  defend  with  vigour  the  government 
that  had  favoured  their  settlement,  and  protected 
their  infant  establishments.  To  the  fears  of  the  pious 
Bodlslaus,  in  the  darkest  period  of  the  twelfth  cen- 
tury, Silesia  is  Indebted  for  Its  culture.  These  Ger- 
man colonists  brouorlu  alono-  with  them  their  national 
industry,  and  the  rudiments  of  such  arts  as  they  them- 
selves knew.  They  were  governed  by  German  laws  ; 
the  flourishing  condition  to  which  their  communities 
speedily  raised  themselves,  in  comparison  with  the 
rest  ol'  the  country,  extended  at  once  their  Iniluenco 
and  their  numbers.     Favoured  by  the  fiequent  con- 


344  CRACOW. 

tests  wltli  the  crown  of  Bohemia,  and,  still  more,  by 
the  disputed  rights,  or  rather  claims,  of  Bohemia  and 
Hungary,  they  gradually  made  their  people  and  their 
language  triumphant,  in  the  greatest  part  of  this  fer- 
tile and  beautiful  province. 

Cracow  neither  requires  nor  deserves  any  detailed 
description.  The  ancient  and  magnificent  capital  of 
the  Polish  monarchs  now  consists  of  palaces  without 
'  inhabitants,  and  inhabitants  without  bread ;  and  only 
the  improbable  event  of  the  restoration  of  Poland 
will  relieve  it  from  the  desolation  that  reigns  in  its 
streets,  and  the  misery  that  pines  within  its  houses. 
The  liberators  of  Europe,  too  jealous  of  each  other 
to  allow  any  one  of  themselves  to  retain  a  city  which, 
as  a  frontier  position,  would  have  been  of  so  much 
value,  performed  the  farce  of  erecting  it  into  a  free 
town.  '  Cracow,  deprived  of  every  outlet  to  industry, 
and  every  source  of  revenue,  was  left  to  bear  the  ex- 
penses of  a  government  and  an  university.  Dowried 
by  her  high  protectors  with  a  few  miles  of  territory, 
and  some  hundreds  of  beggared  peasants,  she  was 
married  to  penury  and  annihilation.  The  sensible 
an>ong  her  citizens  are  by  no  means  proud  of  their 
useless  independence;  and  even  the  senators  break 
jokes  with  melancholy  bitterness  on  their  mendicant 
republic.  There  arc  neither  arts  nor  manufactures  ; 
the  surrounding  country  is  abundantly  fruitful,  but  the 
peasantry  who  cultivate  it  have  no  spirit  of  enterprise, 
and  no  stimulus  to  exertion.  No  spot  in  Europe  can 
present  a  more  squalid  rural  population  than  that 
which  basks  in  the  sun  in  tlie  public  places  of  Cracow 
on  a  market  day.  Twelve  thousand  of  the  inhabi- 
tants are  Jews;  thej  are  sunk  still  lower  than  the 
peasantry  in  uncleanliness  and  misery,  and  appear  to 
be  still  less  sensible  to  it.  The  part  of  the  city  w  hich 
they  inhabit  is  scarcely  approachable;  two  or  three 
families,  men,  women,  and  children,  pigs,  dogs,  and 
poultry,  w^allow   together  in  the  mire  of  some  sicken- 


THE  CATHEDRAL.  345 

ing  and  low-roofed  hovel.  The  Poles  complair)  of 
them  as  one  great  cause  of  the  rapid  dtcaj  ol  the 
city  ;  they  say  that  the  Jews  have  gotten  into  their 
hands  all  the  trade  that  remains  to  it  ;  for  [)urchasing 
cheaply  by  the  practice  of  rascally  arts,  and  liviiig  m 
a  manner  which  scarcely  re(juircs  expenditure,  they 
undersell  their  Christian  conijjetitois.  The  palace  of 
the  kings  ol  Poland  is  itself  a  picture  of  the  vicissi- 
tudes of  the  state.  Once  iidiabited  by  the  Casmiirs, 
the  Sigismunds,  and  the  Sob.eskis,  it  is  now  the  abode 
of  tattered  paupers,  and  even  these  are  [Tincipally 
dependent  on  casual  revenues  for  the  pittance  which 
merely  supports  life. 

Adjoinitig  the  palace  is  the  catiiedral,  in  which  the 
Polish  monarchs  were  wont  to  be  crowned  and  buried. 
In  its  general  st}le  it  may  be  called  Gothic,  but  the 
subordinate  ornaments  aim  at  the  architecture  of  the 
south.  The  altars  are  so  cumbered  with  pillars,  and 
the  columns  which  separate  the  nave  from  the  aisles 
are  so  stuck  routjd  with  monuments  and  tablets,  that 
the  whole  has  a  heavy  and  confused  ap|fearance. 
Nearly  all  the  ornamcnis,  likewise,  are  formed  of  a 
black  marble,  which  is  found  in  abundance  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  Cracow,  and  has  been  lavishly  c(  n- 
sumed  in  its  churches;  its  gloomy  hue  contrasts  stiange- 
ly  with  the  brilliantly  gilded  saints  who  are  crowded 
into  every  corner.  The  architectural  eilect  of  the 
long  and  ample  nave  is  spoiled  by  the  gorgeous  tomb 
and  altar  of  St.  Stanislaus,  which  entirelv  divides  it, 
and  seems  to  be  the  abrupt  termination  of  the  church. 
On  the  altar  lies  the  body  of  the  saint,  contained  in  a 
coffin  of  massive  silver,  six  feet  lonsf,  which  is  supj)ort- 
ed  by  four  female  figures,  about  half  the  size  of  the 
life,  fashioned  in  the  same  metal.  A  riumber  of  tall, 
silver  candelabras  are  ranged  before  it,  and  on  high  is 
suspended  a  large  lamp,  equally  sacred  and  costly.  If 
the  man  did  not  deserve  all  this  for  his  virtues,  he,  at 
least,  merited  it  by  his  miracles ;  for  he  is  one  oi  the 
44 


346  CRACOW. 

« 

few  saints  in  the  calendar  who  have  gone   the  length 
of  raising   the  dead,  (but  he  did  it  for  the   protection 
of  church-property,)  and  the  story  is  worked  in  rehef 
on  his  silver  cotfin.      His  death    was  tragical,  and  the 
circumstances  wliich    led  to    it  were,  according   to  the 
story,  somewhat   out  of  the  way.     St.   Stanislaus  was 
bisiiop  of  Cracow,  under   B.;leslaus   II.,   towards    the 
end  of  the  eleventh    century.     B jl^^slaus  was   a  head- 
strong and    qjarrelsome    prince,    and    spent  his    whole 
reign  in  wars    with  his  neighbours.     He  had    kept  his 
army  in  the  field  seven  years  ;  and  the  ladies  at  home, 
esteeming  this  long  desertion  by  their    husbands  a  vir- 
tual   annulling  of  all  matrimonial    obligations,   selected 
new  companions  from  ami>ng  their   very  slaves.     The 
authority  of  the  king  could   not  detain  his    warriors  a 
moment    longer  ;   they  hastened    home,  and    exacted  a 
bloody  vengeance   from  the  faithless  fair  ones,  as  well 
as  from   their   imprudent   mates.      Boleslaus  followed, 
breathinor  wrath  as^ainst  the  knio^hts  who  had  abandon- 
ed  him  in  the  field,  and  the  ladies  who  had  occasioned 
their  desertion.     Ho  beheaded  or  hanged  a  considera- 
ble number  of  both,  and  condemned  the  women  whom 
he  spared  to  suckle  dogs,  as  a  symbol  of  the  unnatural 
connection  which  they  had  formed  with  their  menials. 
Tiie  good  bishop  could   endure  neither  the  bloodshed, 
nor  this  unchristian  sort  of  wet-nursing;  he  reprimand- 
ed the   monarch  for    his    lawless  cruelties,   and  the  re- 
sistance of  the  priest  only  inflamed  the  rough  warrior. 
The   bishop,   strong  in   his   apostolical  dignity,   excora- 
raunicaied    the    kins:,  and    refused    him  admittance  to 
the    mass  which  he  was    performing  in  a  small  church 
still  called  the  Stanislaus- Kirche.     The   infuriated  Bo- 
leslaus  burst   into   the  church    by  force,   and,   with  his 
own    hand,    murdered    the  bishop  on  the   steps  of  the 
altar.      The    thunders    of    Rome    were    immediately 
hurled    against   him,   and,   compelled    to  fly   from   his 
kingdom,  he  shortly  afterwards  put  a  period  to  his  life 
in  exile  in  Hungary.     Stanislaus  was  canonized ;  the 


THE  CATHEDRAL.  347 

wooden  church  In  which  he  was  murdered  was  con- 
verted, by  the  generosity  of  the  pious,  inlo  a  ics|(cta- 
ble  stone  edifice;  and  allhou»^h  it  consisted  entnely  of 
wood  when  St.  Stanishius  lell,  it  so  haj  |  cncd  that 
some  of  his  bhiod  stained  the  stone  wall  which  after- 
wards was  built,  and  is  still  dcvouilj  visited  and  kissed 
bj  hundreds  of  belie virjg  Poles. 

The  cathedral  is  crowded  with  the  monuments  of 
Polish  kings.  Those  of  the  earlier  sovereigns  are  in 
the  usual  form  of  massy  sarco[)haguses,  whose  sides 
are  covered  with  rude  sculpture,  and  on  whose  top  is 
extended  the  stilF  effigy  of  the  defunct,  with  crown, 
sceptre,  and  regal  robes.  One  of  the  oldest  is  that  of 
Casimir  the  Great,  the  first,  and,  for  centuries,  tiie  only 
Polish  monarch  who  succeeded  in  renicdying  son;e  of 
the  evils  which  had  rendered  the  kingdom  an  inces- 
sant scene  of  contention  and  bloodshed,  aiid  had  re- 
tarded its  progress  in  the  most  ordinary  institutions  of 
civil  life.  Of  the  more  modern  m«  rinments,  the  most 
interesting  is  that  of  King  John  111.  Sobieski,  the  only 
sovereign,  after  the  crown  had  become  really  e!ecJive, 
who  effected  any  thing  great  either  for  the  fauie  or 
welfare  of  the  country.  A  large  pedestal  of  black 
marble  supports  a  sarco[)hagus ;  the  sides  of  the  latter 
are  covered  with  a  battle,  and  military  trophies,  in  re- 
lief, and  two  Turkish  prisoner's  he  chained  in  fr(iit  of 
it.  A  pyramid  rises  above,  bearing  the  busts  of  So- 
bieski and  his  wife.  Tlie  inscription  records  his  ex- 
ploits, and  finishes  with  the  distich, 

Tres  liictus  causae  sunt  hoc  snh  marmore  rJansae  ; 
Rex,  decus  Ecclesiao,  summu«^  tionor  patriae. 

Except  the  busts,  the  figur'es  and  trophies  are  merely 
of  plaster  ;  Sobieski  deserved  something  better*.  The 
body  remained  for  nearly  a  century  in  the  old  vault,  in 
which  a  long  line  of  Polish  monarchs  had  been  deposit- 
ed. Stanislaus  the  last  king,  fitted  up  a  r^ew  vault, 
near  the   door  of  the  cathedral.     He  intended  it  for 


348  CRACOW. 

himself  and  his  successors,  in  the  fond  hope  that  with 
him   was  to  coinmence  a  new  and  mure  happy  race  of 
sovereigns,  and  the  body  of  Sobieski  was  the  only   one 
which  he  removed  from  the  old  vault.     But  Stanislaus 
himself  was  destined  to  close  the  series  of  Polish  kitifijs, 
and  his  ashes  to  be    laid   in   a  foreign   country.     The 
new    vault    contains    only    three    bodies,   but    they   are 
those  of  men  who  were  all  celebrated  in  European  his- 
tory, Sobieski,  Kosciusko,  and  Poniatowsky.    The  last  of 
them  was  deposited  in  it   by  order  of  the  Emperor  of 
Russia.     The    monument    of    Kosciusko    was  not  yet 
finished.      It  will  be  the    simplest    of  all   memorials  to 
the  mighty  dead,  for  it  is  merely  a  huge,  round,  taper- 
ing  eminence   of  earth,  artificially    brought  together. 
A  hermit  had  already  taken   up   his  abode   in  a  hovel 
on  the  ascent  of  it,  to  give  the  straggling  visitor  bene- 
dictions in  return  for  farthings. 

Cracow  may  be  considered  the  centre  of  that  singu- 
lar   and   revolting   disease,    the    WeichselzopJ\  or  Plica 
Polonica.     It  derives  its  name  from  its  most  prominent 
symptom,  the    entangling  of   tfie    haii'  into  a  confused 
mass.      It  is  generally  preceded   by  violent  headaches, 
and  tingling  in  the  ears;  it  attacks  the  bones  and  joints, 
and  even  the  nails  of  the  toes  and   fingers,  which  split 
longitudinally  ;  I    saw  such    furrows   on   the  nails  of  a 
person    twelve   years   after    his  complete  cure.     If  so 
obstinate    as  to   defy   treatment,    it   ends   in  blindness, 
deafness,  or  in   the    most  mehncholy  distortions  of  the 
limbs,  and   sometimes    in   all    these   miseries  together. 
The  most  extraordinary  part  of  the  disease,  however, 
is  its  aciinn  on  the  hair.      The  individual  hairs  begin  to 
swell  at   the    root,  and  to  exude  a  fat,  slimy  substance, 
frequently  mixed  with  suppurated  matter,  which  is  the 
most  noisome  feature  of  the  malady.     Their  growth  is, 
at    the    same   time,   more   rapid,   and    their   sensibility 
greater,  than  in  their  healthy  state  ;  and,  notwithstand- 
ing the  incredulity  with  which  it   was  long  received,  it 
is  now  no  longer  doubtful,  that,  where  the  disease  has 


THE  WEICHSELZOPF.  349 

reached  a  high  degree  of  niahgnlty,  not  onlj  whole 
masses  of  the  hair,  but  even  sin<Tle  hair«,  v>'i!l  bleed  if 
cut  oiF,  and  that,  too,  tliroughout  their  whole  length,  as 
well  as  at  the  root.  1  he  hairs,  giowing  rapidly 
amidst  this  corrupted  moisture,  twist  themselves  toge- 
ther inextiicabi),  and  at  last  are  plaited  into  a  confused, 
clotted,  disgusting-looking  mass.  Very  frequently  they 
twist  themselves  into  a  number  of  separate  masses  like 
ropes,  and  there  is  an  instance  of  such  a  zo^growing 
to  the  length  of  fourteen  feet  on  a  lady's  head,  before 
it  could  be  safely  cut  oif.  Sometimes  it  assumes  other 
forms,  which  medical  writers  have  distinguished  by 
specific  names,  such  as,  the  Bird's  Nest  Plica,  the  Tur- 
ban Plica,  the  Medusa  Head  Plica,  the  Long-tailed 
Plica,  the  Club-shaped  Plica,  kc. 

The  hair,  however,  while  thus  suffering  itself,  seems 
to  do  so  merely  from  contributing  to  the  cure  of  the 
disease,  by  being  the  channel  through  which  the  cor- 
rupted matter  is  carried  off  from  the  body.  From  the 
moment  that  the  hair  begins  to  entangle  itself,  the  pre- 
ceding symptoms  always  diminish,  and  frequently  dis- 
appear entirely,  and  the  patient  is  comparatively  well, 
except  that  he  must  submit  to  the  inconvenience  of 
bearing  about  with  him  this  disgusting  head-piece. 
Accordinsjly,  where  there  is  reason  to  suspect  that  a 
WeichselzopJ*  is  forming  itself,  medical  means  are  com- 
monly used  to  further  its  outbreaking  on  the  head,  as 
the  natural  progress,  and  only  true  cure  of  the  disease  ; 
and,  among  the  peasants,  the  same  object  is  pursued 
by  increased  filth  and  carelessness,  and  even  by  soak- 
ing the  hair  with  oil  or  rancid  butter.  After  the  hair 
has  contirmed  to  grow  thus  tangled  and  noisome  for  a 
period,  which  is  in  no  case  fixed,  it  gradually  becomes 
dry;  healthy  hairs  begin  to  grow  u\)  under  the  plica, 
and,  at  last,  '*  push  it  from  its  stool."  In  the  process 
of  separation,  however,  it  unites  itself  so  readily  with 
the  new  hairs,  that,  if  not  cut  off  at  this  stage,  it  con- 
tinues hanging  for  years,  an  entirely  foreign  appendage 


350  CRACOW. 

to  the  head.  There  are  many  Instances  of  Poles  who, 
suifering  under  poignant  ailments,  which  were,  in  reali- 
ty, the  forerunners  of  an  approaching  Weichselzopf^ 
have  in  vain  sought  aid,  in  other  couritries,  from  fo- 
reign physicians,  and,  on  their  return,  have  found  a 
speedy,  though  a  very  disagreeable  cure,  In  the  break- 
ing out  of  the  phca. 

But  till  the  plica  has  run  through  all  its  stages,  and 
has  begun  of  itself  to  decay,  any  attempt  to  cut  the 
hair  is  attended  with  the  utmost  danj^er  to  the  life  of 
the  patient  ;  It  not  only  afiects  the  body  by  bringing 
on  convulsions,  cramps,  distortion  of  the  limbs,  and  fre- 
quently death,  but  the  imprudence  has  often  had  mad- 
ness for  its  result ;  and,  in  fact,  during  the  whole  pro- 
gress of  the  disease,  the  mind  is,  in  general,  affected 
no  less  than  the  body.  Yet,  for  a  long  time,  to  cut  off 
the  hair  was  the  first  ste[)  taken  on  the  approach  of 
the  disease.  People  were  naturally  anxious  to  get  rid 
of  its  must  disgusting  symptom,  and  they  ascribed  the 
melancholy  eiFects  that  unlformlv  lolh>wed,  not  to  the 
removal  of  the  liair,  but  merely  to  the  internal  mala- 
dy, on  which  this  removal  had  no  influence  ;  and  medi- 
cal men  had  not  yet  learned  that  this  was  the  natural 
outlet  of  the  disease.  Even  towards  the  end  of  the 
last  century,  some  medical  writers  of  Germany  still 
maintained  that  the  hair  should  instantly  be  cut  ;  but 
the  examples  in  which  blindness,  distortion,  death,  or 
insanity,  has  been  the  imuiediate  consequence  of  the 
operation,  are  uiuch  too  numerous  to  allow  their  theo- 
retical opinion  any  weight.  The  only  known  cure  is, 
to  allow  the  hair  to  grow,  till  it  begins  to  rise  pure  and 
healthy  from  the  skin,  an  appearance  which  indicates 
that  the  malady  is  over*;  it  is  then  shaved  off,  and  the 
cure  is  generally  complete,  although  there  are  cases  in 
which  the  disease  has  been  known  to  return.  The 
length  of  time  during  which  the  head  continues  in  this 
state  of  corruption,  depends  entirely  on  the  degree  of 
malignity  in  the  disease. 


THE  WEICHSELZOPF.  351 

Two  instances  of  the  wonderful  disposition  of  the 
hairs  thus  to  intertwist  themselves  with  each  other 
were  mentioned  to  me,  which  [  would  not  have  be- 
lieved had  I  not  received  them  Irom  an  eye-witness, 
and  would  not  repeat,  were  not  that  eye-witness  among 
the  most  respectable  citizens  of  Cracow  m  character 
and  rank,  the  historir^n  d'  its  fa!e,  and  a  liieaiijei  of 
its  seij^.ie.  Tiie  tirst  occurred  in  his  own  house.  A 
servant  was  attacked  with  ihc  Weichselzoff ;  at  length 
his  hair  began  to  rise  in  a  healthy  state  from  the  head; 
it  was  shaved  off,  and  the  man  wore  a  wig.  Bi«t  the 
cure  had  not  been  complete;  the  malady  speedily  re- 
turned, and  the  new-springing  hairs,  already  diseased, 
instead  of  plaiting  themselves  with  one  another,  made 
their  way  through  the  lining  of  the  wig,  and  intertwist- 
ed themselves  so  thoroughly  with  its  hairs,  that  it 
could  not  be  removed,  until  the  natural  hair  itself,  from 
whose  extremity  it  depended,  had  returned  to  its  na- 
tural state.  Tlie  other  case  was  that  of  a  youJig  lady, 
whose  relations  had  ignorantly  cut  off  her  hair  at  the 
commencement  of  the  disease  ;  the  consequences  were 
violent,  and  threatened  to  be  mortal.  Fortunately  the 
lady,  with  the  likinij  which  e\evy  girl  has  for  a  head 
of  beautiful  hair,  had  ordered  her  ravished  locks  to 
be  carefully  preserved,  and  it  was  resolved  to  try  an 
experiment.  T'le  hair  was  again  bandished  on  the 
head;  as  the  new  and  corrupted  hair  sprung  up,  it 
united  itself  so  firmly  with  the  old,  that  they  formed 
but  one  mass;  the  convulsions  and  distortions  disap- 
peared, and,  in  due  time,  the  cure  was  com[)lete. 

The  Weichselzopf,  at  once  a  painful,  a  dangerous, 
and  a  disgusting  disease,  is  not  confined  to  the  human 
species  ;  it  attacks  horses,  particularly  in  the  hairs  of 
the  mane,  dogs,  oxen,  and  even  wolves  and  foxes.  Al- 
though more  common  among  the  poorer  classes,  it  is 
not  peculiar  to  them,  for  it  spares  neither  rank,  nor 
age,  nor  sex.  Women,  however,  are  said  to  be  less 
exposed  to  it  than  aien,  and  fair  hair  less  than  brown 


$52  CRACOW. 

or  black  hair.  It  Is  contagious,  and,  moreover,  may  be- 
come hereditary.  In  Cracow,  there  is  a  I'amily,  the 
father  of  which  had  the  Weichselzopf,  but  seemed  to 
be  thoroughly  cured  ;  he  married  shortly  afterwards, 
and  his  wife  was  speedily  subjected  to  the  same  fright- 
ful visitation:  and,  of  three  children  whom  she  bore 
to  him,  every  one  has  inheriled  the  disease.  Among 
professional  persons,  great  diversity  of  o[)inion  pre- 
vailb  regarding  its  origin  and  nature.  According  to 
^ome,  it  is  merely  the  result  of  filth  and  bad  diet;  but, 
although  it  certainly  is  more  frequent  among  the  classes 
who  are  exposed  to  these  miseries,  particularly  among 
the  Jews,  whose  beards  it  sometimes  attacks  as  well  as 
their  locks,  it  is  by  no  means  confined  to  them  ;  the  most 
wealthy  and  cleanly  are  not  exempt  from  its  influence  ; 
of  this  I  saw  many  instances  in  Cracow.  Others  again, 
allowing  that  it  is  much  aggravated  by  uncleanliness  and 
insalubrious  food,  set  it  down  as  epidemic,  and  seek  its 
origin  in  some  particular  qualities  of  the  air  or  water  of 
the  country,  just  as  some  have  sought  the  origin  of  goi- 
tres; but,  though  more  common  in  Poland  than  elsewhere, 
it  is  likewise  at  home  in  Livonia,  and  some  other  parts 
of  Russia,  and,  above  all,  in  Tartary,  from  whence,  in 
fact  it  is  supposed  to  have  been  first  imported  during 
the  Tartar  invasion  in  the  end  of  the  thirteenth  century. 
A  third  party  has  made  it  a  modification  of  leprosy.  The 
more  ignorant  classes  of  the  people  believe  that  it  is  a 
preservative  against  all  other  diseases,  and  therefore 
adorn  themselves  with  an  inoculated  Weichselzopf, 

Cracow  is  washed  on  the  south  by  the  broad  and  ra- 
pid Vistula,  and  so  soon  as  you  have  crossed  the  long 
wooden  bridge,  you  are  in  the  dominions  of  Austria, 
part  of  her  shameful  gains  when 

Sarmatia  fell  unwept,  without  a  crime  ! 

The  jealous  vigilance  of  her  police  is  immediately 
felt ;  at  every  stage,  the  postmaster  insists  on  examin- 
ing your  passport.     The  same  spirit  even  accompanies 


WIELICZKA.  35i3 

the  stranger  down  into  the  neighbouring  salt  mines  of 
Wiehczka  ;  he  finds  no  difficulty  in  prucunnj^  admit- 
tance ;  but,  when  he  has  been  admitted,  he  encounters 
manj  difficuhies  in  seeing  every  thing  he  would  wish 
to  see,  and  learning  all  that  he  might  wish  to  learn. 

Notwithstandinj;  the  len<;th  of  time  during;  which 
these  mines  have  been  W'orked,  and  the  quantity  of  salt 
which  has  been  taken  out  of  them,  their  treasures  ap- 
pear to  be  as  inexhaustible  as  ever.  They  are  situat- 
ed in  the  outskirts  of  the  Carpathians,  a  much  finer 
range  of  hills,  to  the  eye,  than  the  Silesian  Mountains 
of  the  Giant,  although  they  do  not  present,  in  this  di- 
rection, any  very  elevated  summits.  The  mines  des- 
cend to  the  depth  of  about  fifteen  hundred  feet;  and, 
though  the  miners  go  down  on  ladders,  through  an  or- 
dinary shaft,  the  visitor  has  the  accommodation  of  salt 
stairs,  as  ample  and  regular,  and  convenient,  as  if  they 
had  been  constructed  for  palaces,  and,  below,  the  im- 
mense caverns  which  have  been  formed  by  the  remo- 
val of  the  salt  are,  in  many  instances,  connected  by  pas- 
sages equally  smooth  and  spacious  with  the  streets  of 
a  capital.  The  finest  of  them  have  been  named  after 
monarchs,  because  they  have  generally  been,  if  not 
formed,  yet  widened  into  their  present  regularity  and 
extent,  on  the  occason  of  some  imperial  or  royal  visit. 
Thus  you  have  Francis  Street,  and  Alexander  Street; 
and  the  great  staircase  itself  was  orig^inally  hewn  out 
for  the  accommodation  of  Augustus  III.  of  Saxony  and 
Poland,  in  the  middle  of  the  last  century.  In  a  gold, 
or  silver,  or  iron  mine,  luxuries  of  this  sort  cost  a  pro- 
digious quantity  of  labour,  and  the  lab'^ur  spent  in  re- 
moving the  stubborn  rock  brings  no  other  reward  than 
the  luxury  itself;  but  in  a  salt  mine,  it  is  both  more 
easily  attainable  and  more  profitable;  for  in  widening 
the  passages  salt  is  gained,  and  it  is  just  as  well  to  pro- 
cure the  fossil  in  this  way  as  in  any  other.  Another 
mode  of  descending  is  to  pass  down  the  perpendicular 
shaft  through  which  the  barrels,  filled  with  salt  belovr. 


554  WIELICZKA. 

are  brought  above  ground.  Towards  the  lower  ex- 
tremity of  the  rope,  a  number  of  cross  pieces  of  wood 
are  firmly  secured  to  it,  the  groupes  being  separated 
from  each  other  bv  an  interval  of  seven  or  eio^ht  feet. 
A  couple  of  strano:ers  seat  themselves  on  this  frail  Qia- 
chine,  clasping  the  rope  m  then-  arms,  with  their  legs 
hanging  down  into  the  dark  and  deep  abyss.  They 
are  then  lowered  till  the  next  pair  of  cross  sticks  is  on 
a  level  with  the  mouth  of  the  shaft  ;  on  these  a  second 
couple  is  seated,  in  the  same  way,  and  thus  it  goes  on 
till  the  visitors  are  exhausted,  or  the  rope  is  sufficient- 
ly loaded  for  its  strength.  The  rope  and  its  burden 
are  then  alluwed  to  drop  slowly  into  the  earth,  the 
windlass  above  being  stopped,  on  a  given  signal,  as  each 
party  reaches  the  bottom,  to  give  them  time  to  dis- 
mount from  their  wooden  horses.  At  the  very  end  of 
the  rope  hang  two  little  boys  with  liglits,  to  affu'd  the 
passengers  the  means  of  preventing  the  vibrations  of 
the  rope  from  dashing  them  against  the  walls  of  the 
shaft.  You  are  landed  belong  at  a  depth  of  three 
hundred  feet,  in  the  first  floor,  nf^ar  St.  Anthony's 
chapel,  an  early  production  of  the  miners.  The  chapel 
itself,  its  pillars,  with  their  capitals  and  cornices,  its 
altar  and  its  imaj^es,  are  all  hewn  out  in  the  salt  rock. 
It  is  not  true,  however,  as  has  often  been  stated,  that 
the  outlines  of  its  different  forms  have  retained  their 
original  accuracy,  and  its  angles  their  sharpness.  They 
have  all  suffered,  as  was  to  be  ex[)ected,  from  the  long 
continued  action  of  moisture  which  is  abundantly  visible 
in  every  part  of  the  chapel.  The  angles  of  the  walls 
and  capitals  of  the  pillars  are  entirely  rounded  away, 
and  even  St.  Anthony  himself,  a  very  tolerable  statue, 
considering  the  artists  and  the  materials,  has  been  al- 
most deprived  of  his  nose,  the  most  unseemly  of  all 
failings  in  canonized  sanctity.  In  fact,  Wieliczka  has 
been  the  subject  of  much  exaggeration.  It  is  not  true 
that  the  miners  have  their  houses  and  villages  beneath 
ground,  that  some  of  them  have  been  born  there,  and 


WIELTCZKA.  355 

that  still  more  of  them  have  never  been  on  the  earth 
since  they  first  descended;  for,  thout^h  the  labour  is 
carried  on  without  interruption  during  the  four  and 
twenty  hours,  the  workmen  here,  as  in  most  other 
mines,  are  divided  into  three  barjds,  each  of  which 
works  only  eight  hours,  and  tiieir  houses,  and  wives, 
and  families,  are  above  ground.  It  is  true,  that  the 
horses  employed  in  removing  the  barrels  of  salt  from 
different  parts  of  the  mine  to  the  mouth  of  the  shaft 
through  which  they  are  to  be  drawn  up,  rarely  revisit 
day-light  alter  they  have  once  descended,  and  that 
they  have  their  slables  and  haylofts  below  ground ; 
but  it  is  not  true  thai  they  generally  become  blind,  in 
consequence  of  livins^  so  much  in  the  dark.  The  often 
repeated  wonder,  of  a  stream  of  fresh  water,  flowing 
through  the  salt  rock,  is  equally  void  of  foundation  ; 
but  neither  is  it  true,  that  all  the  fresh  water  in  the 
mine  is  brought  down  artificially  fi'om  above.  There 
are  some  springs  of  fresh  water;  but  there  is  no  rea- 
son to  suppose,  that,  m  then'  course,  they  ever  touch 
the  salt  rock.  The  soil  wliich  lies  immediately  on  the 
fossil  is  a  black  clay,  and  above  it  is  a  stratum  of  sand 
abundantly  impregnated  with  water.  The  upper  sur- 
face of  the  salt  rock,  where  it  comes  into  contact  with 
these  superincumbent  matters,  is  not  a  regular,  but  a 
waved  line  ;  every  here  and  there  it  sinks  dow^n  into 
vallies,  as  it  were,  with  hills  of  salt  en  each  side;  these 
vallies  are  filled  with  sand  and  earth,  and  it  is  through 
them  that  the  springs  of  fiesh  water  find  their  way 
down  into  the  mine.  In  one  of  the  lowest  depths 
there  is  a  small  lake;  that  is,  the  water  oozing  through 
the  rock  has  filled  up  a  large  cavity  which  had  been 
produced  by  the  removal  of  the  salt  ;  its  bottom  and 
banks  are  all  rock  salt;  and,  accordingly,  the  little 
lake  is  most  bitterly  salt  itself.  There  are  various 
other  small  streams  which  flow  out  of  or  through  the 
fossil  ;  and  they  are  all  so  saturated  with  salt,  that  tlie 
Austrian  directors  have  been  known,  in  carrying  them 


33G  WIELICZKA. 

out  of  tile  mine,  to  turn  their  waters  info  places  filled 
with  all  species  of  filth,  lest  the  neighbouring  popula- 
tion should  make  use  of  them  for  the  purpose  of  pro- 
curing salt  by  evaporation. 

In  the  upper  galleries  of  the  mine  the  salt  does  not 
appear  so  much  m  the  form  of  a  continuous  rock  as  in 
that  of  hu^e  insulated  masses,  inserted  into  the  moun- 
tain,  like  enormous  pebbles;  some  of  them  exceed  a 
hundred  feet  in  diameter,  and  sometimes  they  are 
found  not  larger  than  a  football.  This  was  the  por- 
tion first  wrought,  because  nearest  the  earth,  and  min- 
ing in  those  days  must  have  been  ruinously  rude. 
These  immense  masses  of  salt  were  removed  much 
too  freely  ;  the  irregularly  vaulted  roofs  of  the  caverns 
which  they  had  occupied  were  left  without  support, 
and  the  consequence  was,  that  they  frequently  fell  in. 
On  more  occasions  than  one,  the  town  of  Wieliczka, 
which  stands  above  great  part  of  the  mine,  has  been 
shaken  as  if  by  an  earthquake,  and  some  of  its  houses 
have  sunk  into  the  ground.  The  miners  began  to  feel 
the  inconvenience  of  these  dangers  and  interruptions; 
and,  as  the  neighbourhood  abounded,  in  those  days, 
with  wood,  which  cost  nothing  but  the  trouble  of  cut- 
ting it  down,  they  filled  the  cavities  with  stems  of  trees 
laid  upon  each  other.  Even  this  remedy,  toilsome  as 
it  was,  was  an  imperfect  one;  for  you  can  still  distinct- 
ly trace  where  the  weight  of  the  superincumbent  mass 
has  conquf  red  the  resistance  of  the  wood,  and  bent 
and  crushed  it  out  of  its  true  position.  The  materials 
which  they  thus  used  exposed  them,  likewise,  to  the 
dansjer  of  fire,  which  actually  overtook  them  in  the 
middle  of  the  seventeenth  century,  and  the  mine  con- 
tinued on  fire  rather  more  than  a  year.  Perhaps  the 
timber  had  not  been  sufficiently  long  below  ground  to 
imbibe  salt  in  such  a  quantity  as  would  enable  it  to 
resist  flame;  for,  if  the  experience  of  Austria  and  Si- 
lesia be  correct,  it  would  not  have  burned  when  fully 
impregnated  with  salt.     In  those  parts  of  Silesia  and 


WIELICZKA.  357 

Austria  where  the  houses  are  roofed  with  narrow  and 
thin  pieces  ot"  wood,  which,  in  summer,  become  riearly 
as  drj  and  inflammable  as  timber,  and,  at  all  times, 
present  a  most  efficacious  instrument  for  propagating 
a  conflagration,  the  frequency  of  destructive  fires  at- 
tracted the  notice  of  tfie  public  authorities.  As  the 
result  of  the  chemical  investigations  to  which  tfiis  led, 
it  has  been  recommended,  even  under  the  sanction  of 
learned  societies,  that  the  wood  to  be  used  in  roofing 
should  previously  be  saturated  with  salt.  In  this  state, 
thej  say,  it  will  resist  fire  as  effectually  as  either  slates 
or  tiles  w\\\  do.  The  alteration  has  hitherto  been  ve- 
ry sparingly  adopted,  partly  because  it  would  cost  a 
little  money,  but  much  more  because  it  is  a  change  ; 
and  German  peasants,  in  general,  are  sworn  adherents 
of  the  Glenburnie  creed,  not  to  be  *' fashed."  \i\  Wie- 
liczka,  the  wood  \^  now  as  hard  as  rock.  I  was  as- 
sured that  even  animals  which  die  do  not  putrify,  but 
merely  assume  the  appearance  of  stuffVd  birds  and 
beasts;  and  it  was  added,  that  when,  in  1696,  the  bo- 
dies of  some  workmen,  who  it  was  supposed  had  pe- 
rished in  the  great  conflagration,  were  found  in  a  retir- 
ed and  deserted  corner  of  the  mine,  they  were  as  dry 
and  hard  as  mummies. 

In  the  deeper  galleries,  the  operations  have  been 
carried  on  with  much  greater  care  and  regularity.  In 
them  the  salt  assumes  more  decidedly  the  character  of 
a  continuous  stratum,  although  it  is  of^en  interrupted, 
both  vertically  and  horizontally,  by  veins  of  rock.  The 
salt  is  cut  out  in  long,  narrow  blocks,  as  if  from  a  quar- 
ry ;  it  is  then  broken  into  smaller  pieces,  and  packed 
up  in  barrels.  At  certain  distances,  large  masses  of  it 
are  left  standing,  to  act  as  pillars  in  suppor  ing  the 
roof.  Its  colour,  in  the  mass,  is  dark,  nor  is  the  reflec- 
tion of  light  from  its  surfaces  at  all  so  dazzling  as  has 
sometimes  been  represented.  When,  indeed,  flambeaux 
are  flashing  from  every  point  of  rock,  and  the  galleries 
and  caverns  are  illuminated,  as  they  sometimes  have 
been,  in  honour  of  royal  personages,  with  numbers   of 


358  GALLICIA. 

gay  chandeliers,  their  crjstaUized  walls  and  ceilings 
may  throw  back  a  magnificent  flood  of  light ;  but,  in 
their  ordinary  state,  illuminated  only  with  the  small 
lights,  by  whose  guidance  the  miners  pursue  their  la- 
bours, the  effect  is  neither  very  brilliant  nor  imposing. 

The  whole  of  this  part  of  Gallicia  is  a  beautiful  and 
fertile  country.  On  the  south  and  south-east,  it  is 
bounded  by  the  shady  and  romantic  eminences  with 
which  the  lofty  ridge  of  the  Carpathians  commences, 
and  from  whose  western  extremity,  the  young  Vistula, 
as  you  approach,  at  Teschen,  the  frontiers  of  Moravia, 
comes  hurrying  dowm.  There  is  a  most  observable 
difference  in  the  appearance  both  of  the  towns  and  the 
peasantry,  from  the  cha^ac+'^i  of  'hose  ^vnicli  you  have 
jij'^t  h.fi  In  Poland  ;  there  is  more  activity  and  seeming 
comfort ;  what  the  traveller  sees  would  not  lead  him 
to  think  that  the  inhabitants  of  Gallicia  ought  to  re- 
gret their  transference  from  the  crown  of  Poland.  In 
Moravia,  the  country  has  more  of  the  plain,  and  the 
people  gradually  display,  the  nearer  you  come  to  the 
capital,  the  jovial  and  social  bon-hommie  of  the  Austri- 
an character.  The  whole  province  is  in  high  cultiva- 
tion, and  is  so  fertile  in  fruit,  that  it  is  usually  styled 
the  Orchard  of  Austria.  The  population,  too,  is  dense, 
and  the  whole  road  is  a  succession  of  clean,  bustling 
small  towns,  many  of  them  depending  principally  on 
the  woollen  manufacture,  w^hich,  with  the  assistance  of 
the  raw  material  from  Bohemia  and  Hungary,  has  gra- 
dually risen  to  what  is,  for  Austria,  a  very  honourable 
degree  of  respectability.  The  manufacturers  assert, 
that  they  could  carry  it  much  farther,  if  the  sheep  far- 
mers would  condescend  to  take  some  lessons  from  the 
Saxons  as  to  the  manner  of  preparing  and  assorting 
their  wool. 

On  reaching  the  brow  of  the  low  eminences  that 
border,  to  the  north,  the  valley  through  which  the 
Danube  takes  his  course,  a  magnificent  prospect  burst 
at  once  upon  the  eye.     A  wide  plain  lay  below,  teem- 


MORAVIA.  359 

ing  with  the  productions  and  habitations  of  industrious 
men.  On  the  east,  towards  Hungary,  it  was  boundless, 
and  the  eye  was  obstructed  only  by  the  horizon.  To 
the  westward  rose  the  fiills  which,  beginning  in  orchard 
and  vineyard,  and  terminating  in  forest  and  preci'iice, 
foriij,  in  this  dneclion,  the  commencement  of  tlie  Alps; 
and  to  the  south,  the  plain  was  bounded  by  the  loftier 
suniuiits  of  the  Styrian  m(Mjnta(ns.  Nearly  in  the  cen- 
tre of  the  picture  lay  Vienna  itself,  extending  on  all 
sides  its  gigantic  arms,  and  the  spire  of  the  cathedral, 
high  above  every  other  object, was  proudly  present mg 
its  Gothic  pinnacle  to  the  evening  sun.  From  this 
point,  the  inequality  of  the  ground  on  which  Vienna 
stands  strikes  the  eye  at  once,  and  the  cathedral  has 
the  advantage  of  occupying  the  highest  point  of  the 
proper  city  ;  for  not  otjly  the  spire,  but  nearly  the 
whole  bodv  of  the  edifice,  was  distinctly  seen  above  all 
the  other  buildings  of  the  city. 


CHAPTER  XII. 


VIENNA. 

Oben  wohnt  ein  Geist  der  nicht  . 

Menschlich  ziirnet  und  schmahlet ; 
Noch.  mit  Wolktn  ini  Gesicht, 

Kuss'  und  Flaschen  zahlet; 
Nein  ;  Er  lachelt  mild  herab, 
Weun  sich  zwischen  Wieg'  und  Grab 

Seine  Kinder  freun. 

Langbein. 

He  condennns  not  our  joys,  like  our  brethren  of  earth, 

The  Spirit  immortal  that  goveins  above  ; 
Nor,  wrapping  his  brow  in  the  cloud  of  a  frown, 

Counts  the  bottles  of  mirth,  or  the  kisses  of  love  ; 
No  ;  he  smiles  when  the  children  his  hand  planted  here 
In  transport  enjoy  from  the  breast  to  the  bier. 

These  lines,  from   a  popular  German  poet  and   no 
velist,  contain  the  text  on  which  every  one  of  the  three 


^m  VIENNA. 

hundred  thousand  inhabitants  who  crowd  Vienna  and 
its  interaiinable  suburbs,  seems  to  reckon  it  a  duty  to 
make  his  life  a  commentary.  They  are  more  devoted 
friends  of  joviality,  pleasure,  and  good  living,  and  more 
bitter  enemies  of  every  thing  like  care  or  thinking,  a 
more  eating,  drinking,  good-natured,  ill  educated,  hos- 
pitable, and  laughing  people,  than  any  other  of  Ger- 
many, or,  perhaps,  of  Europe.  Their  climate  and  soil, 
the  corn  and  wine  with  which  Heaven  has  blessed 
them,  exempt  them  from  any  very  anxious  degree  of 
thought  about  their  own  wants  ;  and  the  government, 
with  its  spies  and  police,  takes  most  eifectual  care  that 
their  gaiety  shall  not  be  disturbed  by  thinking  of  the 
public  necessities,  or  studying  for  the  public  weal.  In 
regard  to  themselves,  they  are  distinguished  by  a  love 
of  pleasure;  in  regard  to  strangers,  by  great  kindness 
and  hospitality.  It  is  difficult  to  bring  an  Austrian  to 
a  downright  quarrel  with  you,  and  it  is  almost  equally 
difficult  to  prevent  him  from  injuring  your  health  by 
good  living. 

The  city  itself  is  a  splendid  and  a  bustling  one;  no 
other  German  metropolis  comes  near  it  in  that  crowd- 
ed activity  which  distinguishes  our  own  capitals.  It 
does  not  stand,  strictly  speaking,  on  the  Danube,  which 
is  a  mile  to  the  northward,  and  is  separated  from  it  by 
the  largest  of  all  the  suburbs,  the  Leopoldstadt,  as 
well  as  by  the  extensive  tract  of  ground  on  whsch  the 
groves  of  the  Prater  have  been  planted,  and  its  walks 
laid  out.  The  walls,  however,  are  washed,  on  this 
side,  by  a  small  arm  of  the  Danube,  which  rejoins  the 
main  stream  a  short  way  below  the  city,  and  is  suffi- 
ciently large  for  the  purposes  of  inland  navigation.  On 
the  south,  the  proper  city  is  separated  from  the  su- 
burbs by  a  still  more  insignificant  stream,  which,  how- 
ever, gives  its  name  to  the  capital,  the  Vienna.  Tin's 
rivulet,  instead  of  serving  effectually  even  the  purposes 
of  cleanliness,  brings  down  the  accumulated  refuse  of 
other    regions  of   the  town  ;  and   its  noisome  effluvia 


^w:. 


THE  CITY.  361 

often  render  it   an  effort   to  pass  the  bridge  across  it, 
one  of  the  most  crowded  thoroughfares  of  Vienna. 

The  proper  city  is  of  nearly  a  circular  form,  and 
cannot  be  more  than  three  miles  in  circumference,  for 
I  have  often  walked  quite  round  the  ramparts  in  less 
than  an  hour.  The  style  of  building  does  not  pretend 
to  much  ornament,  but  is  massive  and  imposing ;  the 
streets  are  generally  narrow,  and  the  houses  lofty, 
rising  to  four  or  five  floors,  which  are  all  entered  by  a 
common  stair.  There  is  much  more  regularity,  and 
ihere  are  many  more  cornices  and  pillars  in  Berlin ;  in 
Dresden  there  is  a  more  frequent  mtermixture  of 
showy  edifices ;  there  is  more  lightness  and  airiness  of 
effect  in  the  best  parts  of  ^unich ;  and  in  Niirnberg 
and  Augsburgh,  there  is  a  greater  profusion  of  the  out- 
ward ornaments  of  the  olden  time ;  but  in  none  of  these 
towns  is  there  so  much  of  that  sober  and  solid  stateli- 
ness,  without  gloom,  which,  after  all,  is  perhaps  the 
most  fitting  style  of  building  for  a  large  city.  Some 
individual  masses  of  building,  in  the  very  heart  of  the 
city,  are  as  populous  as  large  villages.  The  Biirger- 
Spital,  formerly,  as  its  name  denotes,  an  hospital  for 
citizens,  but  converted  ^into  dwelling-houses  by  Joseph 
II.,  contains  ten  large  courts,  is  peopled  by  more  than 
1200  inhabitants,  and  yields  a  yearly  rental  of  L.  6500. 
Another,  in  one  of  the  suburbs,  belonging  lo  Prince 
Esterhazy,  contains  1.50  different  dwelling-houses,  and 
lets  for  from  L.  1600  to  L.  2000.  Mr.  Trattener,  for- 
merly a  bookseller,  and  the  most  fortunate  bibliopole 
that  the  Austrian  capital  has  yet  produced,  built  on  the 
Graben,  the  most  fashionable  part  of  the  city,  a  huge 
edifice,  which  yields  to  its  proprietor  L.  2400  a-year ; 
and  Count  Strahremberg  has  another,  whose  annual 
rental  amounts  to  L.  4000.  Even  the  ordinary  build- 
ings are  generally  in  the  form  of  a  square,  surrounding 
a  small  court ;  but  the  houses  are  so  high,  and  the 
court  is  of  such  narrow  dimensions,  that  it   frequently 

46 


362  VIENNA. 

has  more  of  the  appearance  of  a  well ;  and  the  com- 
mon stair,  which  receives  its    hght   from    it,    is  left  in 
darkness.     Even  on  the  Graben,  it  is  sometimes  neces- 
sary to  have  lamps   in  the  stair-cases  during   the  day. 
Every  house,  whatever  number   of  families  it   may 
contain  in  its  various   floors,  is  under  the  superintend- 
ence of  a  Hausmeister,   or  house- master,  who  is  a  per- 
sonage of  much  importance    to    the  convenience  of  all 
who  inhabit  it.     He    is  some  mean   person,  frequently 
an  old  woman,  appointed   by    the    proprietor  to  watch 
over  the  building  and  its  tenants,   in  so  far  as  the  wel- 
fare of  mason-work  and  carpenter's  work  is  concerned, 
to  attend  to  the   cleanliness   of   the  common   passages, 
and  the  safety  of    the  -^stj^et-door.     This  little  despot 
commonly  lurks  in  some  dark  hole  on  the  ground  floor, 
or  still  lower  down  ;  and  every   evening,   as   the  clock 
strikes  ten,  he  locks  the  street-door.     After  this,  there 
is  neither  ingress  nor  egress  without  his  permission,  and 
his  favour  is  to  be  gained    only   at  the  expense  of  the 
pocket  ;  if  you    come  home    after   ten    o'clock,   he  ex- 
pects his  twopence  for   hearing  the   bell,  and  opening 
the  door.     It  is  true,  that  he  is  bound  in  duty  to  admit 
you  at  any  hour,  and  that  you   are    not    bound  to  give 
him  any  thing;  but   if  you    have    entered   in  this  way 
once  or    twice,   without    properly  greeting  his    itching 
palm,  the  consequence  is,  that  on  the  next,  and  all  sub- 
sequent  occasions,  you  may  ring  half  an   hour  before 
the  grumbling  Hansmeister  deigns  to  hear,  and  another 
before  he  condescends  to   answer  your  thankless  sum- 
mons.    It  is  the  same  thing  even    in  the   inns  ;  at  tea 
o'clock  the  outer  gate  must   be  shut,  whatever  revelry 
may  be  going  on  within.     It  is  a  police  regulation,  and 
the  police  is  watchful.     Besides  a  body  of  men  corres- 
ponding to  our  watchmen,  but    who,  instead  of  calling 
the  hour,  strike  their  bludgeons    upon   the   pavement, 
the  streets  are  patroled,  all  night  long,  by  gens  d'armes, 
l^joth  mounted  and  on  foot.     Street  noise,  street  quar- 


THE  CITY.  363 

rels,  and  street  robberies,  are  unknown.  It  is  only  out- 
side of  the  walls,  in  the  more  lonely  parts  of  the  glacis 
which  separates  the  city  from  the  suburbs,  that  noc- 
turnal depredations  are  sometimes  committed;  and,  in 
such  cases,  robbery  is  not  unfrequently  accompanied 
with  nr.irder. 

"The  Art  of  walking  the  streets"  in  I.ondon  is  an 
easy  problem,  compared  with  the  art  of  walking  them 
in  Vienna.  In  the  former,  there  is  some  order  and 
distinction,  even  in  the  crowd  ;  two-legged  and  four- 
legged  animals  have  their  allotted  places,  and  are  com- 
pelled to  keep  them  ;  in  the  latter,  all  this  is  other- 
wise.  It  is  true,  that,  in  the  principal  streets,  a  few 
feet  on  each  side  are  pa\^dv  with  stones  somewhat 
larger  than  those  in  the  centre,  and  these  side  slips 
are  intended  for  pedestrians  ;  but  the  pedestrians  have 
no  exclusive  right ;  the  level  of  the  street  is  uniform  ;' 
there  is  nothing  to  prevent  hoises  and  carriages  from 
encroaching  on  the  domain,  and,  accordingly,  they  are 
perpetually  trespassing.  The  streets,  even  those  in 
which  there  is  the  greatest  bustle,  the  Karntherstrasse, 
for  example,  are  generally  narrow  ;  carriages,  hack- 
ney-coaches, and  loaded  waggons,  observing  no  order, 
cross  each  other  in  all  directions  ;  and,  while  they  hur- 
ry past  each  other,  or  fill  the  street  by  coming  from 
opposite  quarters,  the  pedestrian  is  e\evy  moment  in 
danger  of  being  run  up  against  the  wall.  A  provoking- 
circumstance  is,  that  frequently  a  third  part,  or  even 
a  half  of  the  street,  is  rendered  useless  by  heaps  of 
wood,  the  fuel  of  the  inhabitants.  The  wood  is  brought 
into  the  city  in  large  pieces,  from  three  to  four  feet 
long.  A  waggon-load  of  these  logs  is  laid  down  on  the 
street,  at  the  door  of  the  purchaser,  to  be  sawed  and 
split  into  smaller  pieces,  before  being  deposited  in  his 
cellar.  When  this  occurs,  as  it  often  does,  at  every 
third  or  fourth  door,  the  street  just  loses  so  much  of 
its  breadth.  Nothing  remains  but  the  centre,  and  that 
is  constantly  swarming  with  carriages,  and  carts,  and 


3,64  VIENNA. 

barrows.  The  pedestrian  must  either  wind  himself 
through  among  their  wheels,  or  clamber  over  succes- 
sive piles  of  wood,  or  patiently  wait  till  the  centre  of  the 
street  becomes  passable  for  a  few  yards.  To  think  of 
doubling  the  wooden  promontory  without  this  precau- 
tion is  far  from  being  safe.  You  have  scarcely,  by  a 
sudden  spring,  saved  your  shoulders  from  the  pole  of  a 
carnage,  when  a  wheel-barrow  makes  a  similar  attack 
on  your  legs.  You  make  spring  the  second,  and,  in  all 
probability,  your  head  comes  in  contact  with  the  up- 
lifted hatchet  of  a  wood-cutter.  The  wheel-barrows 
seem  to  be  best  off.  They  fill  such  a  middle  rank  be- 
tween bipeds  and  quadrupeds,  that  they  lay  claim  to 
the  privileges  of  both,  and  hold  on  their  way  rejoicing, 
commanding  respect  equally  from  men  and  horses. 

To  guide  a  carriage  through  these  crowded,  encum- 
bered, disorderly,  narrow  streets,  without  either  occa- 
sioning or  sustaining  damage,  is,  perhaps,  the  highest 
achievement  of  the  coach-driving  art.  Our  own  knights 
of  the  whip,  with  all  their  scientific  and  systematic  ex- 
cellencies, must  here  yield  the  palm  to  the  practical 
superiority  of  their  Austrian  brethren.  Nothing  can 
equal  the  dexterity  with  which  a  Vienna  coachman 
winds  himself,  and  winds  himself  rapidly,  through 
every  little  aperture,  and,  above  all,  at  the  sharp  turns 
of  the  streets.  People  on  foot,  indeed,  must  look 
about  them;  and,  from  necessity,  they  have  learned  to 
look  about  them  so  well,  that  accidents  are  wonder- 
fully rare ;  and  very  seldom,  indeed,  does  it  happen 
that  the  Jehus  do  not  keep  clear  of  each  other's 
wheels.  The  hacknev-coachmen  form  as  peculiar  a 
class  as  they  do  in  London,  with  as  much  esprit  de 
corps,  but  more  humour,  full  of  jokes  and  extortion. 
It  is  said  that  the  most  skilful  coachman  from  any  oth- 
er  country  cannot  drive  in  Vienna  without  a  regular 
education.  A  few  years  ago,  a  Hungarian  nobleman 
brought  out  a  coachman  from  London;  but  Tom  was 
iinder  the  necessity  of  resigning  the  box,  after  a  day's 


THE  CITY.  365 

driving  pregnant  with  danger  to  his  master's  limbs  and 
carriage. 

In  Vienna,  the  distinction  between  the  fashionable 
and  unfashionable  parts  of  the  city  is  less  strongly  mark- 
ed than  in  most  other  capitals.  The  courtiers  naturally 
love  to  be  near  the  palace,  which  joins  the  ramparts 
on  the  south  side  of  the  citj,  and  the  Herrengasse,  the 
nearest  street,  is  full  of  princely  abodes;  but  there  are 
few  parts  of  the  town,  and  especially  on  the  rainparts, 
where  jou  are  not  struck  by  the  huge  piles,  gorgeous- 
ly dressed  servants,  and  glittering  equipages  of  Hunga- 
rian and  Bohemian  nobles.  Yet  there  are  few  partic- 
ular buildings  which  could  be  pointed  out  as  fine  edi- 
fices— for  no  great  metropolis  has  hitherto  made  so 
few  pretensions  to  classical  and  elegant  architecture, 
although  it  has  the  merit  of  having  avoided,  in  a  great 
measure,  those  barbarous  mixtures,  and  gewgaw  frip- 
peries, which  are  the  disgrace  of  some  other  capitals. 
More  than  one  of  the  public  buildings  which  were  in- 
tended to  be  splendid,  are  either  mediocre,  or  positively 
bad;  and,  even  when  the  maitj  conception  is  good, 
there  is  commonly  some  unpardonable  adjimct  which 
mars  its  beauty,  and  interrupts  its  effect.  The  palace 
of  Prince  Lichtenstein  is  a  gorgeous  building ;  its  libra- 
ry is  the  handsomest  part  of  it,  and  the  finest  single 
hall  in  Vienna,  and  its  contents  are  at  once  abundant 
and  valuable.  Yet  the  only  entrance  to  the  library  is 
by  a  dark  and  narrow  stair  at  the  back  of  the  house, 
and  leads  the  visitor  past  the  reeking  doors  of  the 
prince's  stables,  which  are  right  below.  V^hen  this 
part  of  the  building  was  raised,  it  was  proposed  to  in- 
scribe upon  it,  Equis  et  Musis.  The  Imperial  nding- 
school,  a  work  of  Fischer  of  Erlach,  the  first  architect 
who  introduced  some  grandeur  into  the  public  edifices  of 
Vienna,  is  in  a  chaste  and  severe  style,  so  far  as  it  can 
be  seen;  but  it  is  stuck  on  the  irregular  pile  of  the 
palace,  and  palace  theatre,  in  such  a  way  that  no  whole 
is  observable,  and   it  looks  like  a  fras^ment.     The  pal- 


S66  VIENNA. 

ace  of  the  House  of  Ha|jsburgh  itself,  the  residence  of 
a  family  which,  enteripig  Gernianj  in  the  person  of  a 
Swiss  knight  unexpectedly  chosen  to  wear  the  imperi- 
al crown,  has  raised  itself,  in  defiance  of  all  the  politi- 
cal storms  which  have  attacked  it,  to  so  powerful  a 
rank  among  the  sovereigns  of  Europe,  is  almost  an 
emblem  of  the  progress  of  its  proprietors,  a  collection 
of  dissimilar  and  ill-assorted  masses,  added  to  each  oth- 
er as  convenience  required,  and  occasio!>  served.  Even 
in  the  present  century,  <he  court  architects  have  been 
carrying  on  their  additions,  and  with  much  less  taste 
than  their  predecessors  displayed  a  hundred  years  ago. 
The  latter  formed  a  regular  court,  more  than  three 
hundred  feet  long,  and  surrounded  by  buildings  which, 
though  very  different  in  style — from  the  antiquated 
and  venerable  appearance  of  the  old  Burg  on  the  east 
side,  to  the  florid  architecture  of  the  long  mass  which 
bounds  it  on  the  north — are  never  positively  mean, 
and  always  present  large  and  uniform  surfaces  on  eve- 
ry side:  but  the  former,  for  the  sake  of  widening  a 
hall,  have  broken  the  south  front  by  carrying  it  out  in 
an  impertinent  projection  which  looks  much  liker  a 
coffee-house  than  a  palace. 

Vienna  has  some  very  noble  public  squares,  though 
no  people  requires  them  less  for  purposes  of  recrea- 
tion; for,  when  amusement  is  their  object,  they  hasten 
beyond  the  walls  to  the  coffee-houses  of  the  glacis,  or 
the  shades  of  the  Prater,  the  wine-houses  and  monks 
of  Kloster-Nouburg,  or  the  gardens  of  Schonbrunn. 
The  best  of  these  squares  happen  to  be  in  parts  of  the 
city  where  the  fashionable  world  does  not  often  in- 
trude;  they  are  not  planted,  l)ut  they  are  excellently 
payed;  they  are  not  gaudy  with  palaces,  but  they  are 
surrounded  by  the  busy  shops,  and  substantial  and 
comfortable  dwellings  of  happy  citizens,  and  are  com- 
monly adorned  with  some  religious  emblem,  or  a  pub- 
lic fountain.  Both  the  temples  and  the  fountains  have 
too  much  work  about  them ;  there  is  too  much  strivinj^ 


THE  CITY.  8^7 

after  finery  of  sculpture,  a  department  of  art  in  which 
the  Austrians  are  still  very  far  behind.  The  conse- 
quence is,  that  there  arc  crowds  of  (i<^ures  which  have 
no  more  to  do  with  a  basin  of  water  than  with  a  punch 
bowl.  The  Graben^  an  open  space  in  the  most  busy 
part  of  the  town,  and  entered,  at  both  extremities,  by 
the  narrowest  and  most  inconvenient  lanes  in  Vienna, 
(although,  on  Sundays  and  festivals,  it  is  the  great  thor- 
oughfare of  all  classes,  from  the  emj,eror  to  the  servant 
girl,)  is  embellished  with  two  fountains.  The  fountains 
themselves  are  simple  and  unatlected  ;  but  it  was  neces- 
sary to  have  statues.  Therefore,  at  the  one  well  stands 
Joseph  explaining  to  the  Messiah  his  Hebrew  genealogy, 
and,  at  the  other,  St.  Leoj)old,  holding  in  his  hands  a 
plan  of  the  Monastery  of  Neuburg!  The  artist  of  the 
fountain  in  the  jYeumarkt^  or  New-market,  seems  to  have 
felt  the  want  of  congruity  in  this  union  of  holy  saints 
with  cold  water,  and  he  i)laced  on  the  edge  of  his  ba- 
sin four  naked  figures,  representing  the  four  principal 
rivers  of  Austria,  pouring  their  waters  into  the  Danube, 
whose  genii  surround  the  pillar  that  rises  from  the 
centre.  But  even  here  corner  something  Austrian  and 
absurd.  The  basin  is  so  small,  that  half  a  dozen  of 
moderately  sized  perch  would  feel  themselves  confined 
in  it;  yet  these  four  emblematical  figures  are  anxiously 
gazing  into  the  tiny  reservoir,  and  brandishing  hugh 
tridents  to  harpoon  the  invisible  whales  which  are  sup- 
posed to  be  sporting  in  its  waters. 

In  all  these  squares,  and  in  all  the  spots  that  are  the 
favourite  resorts  of  the  people,  a  Briton,  and  even  a 
Prussian,  feels  strongly  the  want  of  those  |)ublic  me- 
morials which  public  gratitude  ought  to  raise  to  men 
who  have  adorned  or  benefitted  a  state  by  their  ta- 
lents. A  stranger,  wandering  through  the  squares  and 
churches  of  Vienna,  would  believe  that  the  empire 
had  never  possessed  a  man  whom  it  was  worth  wnile 
to  record,  except  Joseph  II. — to  whom  the  govern- 
ment has  erected  a  proud  monument,  while  it  has  not 


568  VIENNA. 

only  avoided  his  practical  imprudences,  but  has  bigot- 
ediy   proscribed   even  the   good   principles    on  which 
these    imprudences   were  merely  excrescences.     It  is 
true,   that    Austria,  of  herself,  has  produced  few  high 
names ;  and,  perhaps,  this  may  be  one  reason  why  she 
has  so  carefully  refrained  from  presenting  to  the  pub- 
lic eye  any  proof  of  the  frequency  with  which  she  has 
been  compelled  to  trust  for  her  safety  and  fame  to  the 
talent  which  other  countries  had  produced.     If  Austria 
does  not  blush  to  have  made  use  of  foreign  talent,  why 
does  she  blush  at  recording   its  services  in  the  eyes  of 
her  citizens  ?  The   bitter  satire  of  the  words   which 
Loudon's  widow  inscribed  on  the  monument  erected  to 
him  by  herself  in  the  shades  of  his  country  seat,  was 
richly  deserved  ;  Non   Patria  ;  non  iMPEHAToti ;  Con- 
jux  posuiT.     Where  are  Montecuculi,  and  Eugene,  and 
Lacy,  and  Loudon,  the  only  worthy  opponent  of  Fred- 
erick?  Where  are  Prince  Louis   of  Baden,  and  John 
Sobieski  of  Poland,  who  saved   Leopold,   trembling  in 
his  palace,  and  hurled  back  the  Crescent  when  ready 
to  enter  Vienna  in  triumph  over  the  ruins  of  the  Cross  ? 
Where    are   Jacquin   and   Van   Swieten?  Where   are 
even  the  Daun  and  Kaunitz,  the  Mozart  and  Haydn  of 
Austria  itself?  Simple  busts  of  Loudon  and  Lacy  were 
placed  by  Joseph  in  the  hall  where  the  Council  of  War 
holds  its  meetings,  and  were  honoured  with  inscriptions 
from  his  own  pen :  but  they  were  not  for  the   public, 
and  are   visible  only  to  high   military  officers.     Daun 
was  commemorated  by  an  uncouth,  gaudy,  gilded  thing  ; 
but   even  this,  ugly  as  it  is,  was  locked  up  in  a  chapel 
of   the   Augustine   monks.      Even    the    monument    of 
Prince  Eugene,  to  whom  Austria  owed  a  heavier  debt 
than  perhaps  any  country  ever  owed   to  one  man,  was 
the  work,  not  of  the  public  gratitude  of  Austria,  but 
of  the  family  feeling  of  a  Duke  of  Savoy.     With  what 
pride  does  a  Briton  look   round   St.  Paul's  and  West- 
minster Abbey,  or  a   Prussian   point  to  the    Wilhelm- 
splatz  ?  In  Vienna,  there  is  not  presented  to  the  public 


SCULPTURE.  ^9 

eye  the  slightest  memorial  of  the  greatest  men,  except- 
ing Joseph  II.,  to  teach  the  [)eople  what  no  people 
more  easily  forgets  than  the  Viennese,  that  there  real- 
ly is  something  in  the  world  more  respectable  than 
mere  eating,  and  drinking,  and  waltzing. 

Tiie  statue  of  Joseph  II.  stands  on  a  square  which 
bears  his  name.  Two  sides  of  the  sqijaie  aie  formed 
by  the  mijes(ic  elevations  of  the  im[)erial  library, 
which  would  gain  by  the  removal  of  the  two  large  gilt 
balls  w'nch  disfigure  its  sumniit.  The  stfctue  is  a  co- 
lossal and  equestrian  one,  cast  in  bronze,  arid  elevated 
on  a  lofty  pedestal  of  granite.  Tl^.e  pedestal  and  its 
attendant  pilasters  are  adorned  with  njedalhons  repre- 
senting, not  so  much  the  public  reforms,  as  the  diffe- 
rent journies,  of  the  emperor.  The  whole  work  is 
yery  creditable  to  the  sculptor,  Zujner  ;  there  is  no- 
thing trivial  or  trifling  about  it ;  the  horse,  however, 
though  a  very  good  German  horse,  is  not  sufficiently 
improved  for  sculpture  ;  and,  allogether,  the  best  parts 
of  the  monument  are  those  which  de|)art  least  from 
that  model  of  all  equestrian  statues — Mai'cus  Aurelius, 
in  the  Roman  Capitol.  This  memorial  was  erected  by 
the  present  emperor,  who  thus  did  honour  to  his  uncle, 
without  having  hitherto  followed  one  of  his  principles. 
Let  the  very  just  inscription,  Saluti  publicae  vixit  non 
Diu,  BED  TOTi;s,  Warn  the  successors  of  Joseph  II.  to 
take  care  that  they  give  no  room  for  reversing  it  in 
regard  to  themselves.  The  errors  of  Joseph  were 
those  of  all  enthusiasts.  He  was  far  advanced  before 
his  age  in  Austria:  he  believed  that  the  people  would 
as  easily  see  the  absurdity  of  popular  {>reiud»ces.  as 
he  distinctly  perceived  them  himself;  he  forced  them, 
rather  than  managed  them.  He  constrained  them  for  a 
while;  but  both  he  himself,  and  Leopold,  who,  with 
the  same  excellent  sj)irit,  had  much  moie  prejudice, 
disappeared  from  the  scene,  before  the  people  had  yet 
had  time  to  learn  how  far  these  new  changes  would  do 
good,  and  the  people  willin2;ly  returned  to  what  they 
47 


sro  VIENNA. 

were  not  sure  was  bad,  but  were  perfectly  sure  was 
old.  Joseph  shook  to  its  foundations  the  civil  power 
of  tiie  Romish  hierarchy,  stripped  it  of  its  exorbitant 
wealth,  and  prosciibed  its  corrupting  idleness.  Europe 
saw  the  holy  head  of  the  church  cross  the  Appenines 
and  the  Alps  to  admonish  his  unruly  son,  the  King  of 
R  )me ;  but  Joseph  forgot,  that  the  iiiiellect  of  his 
subjects  was  under  the  yoke  of  the  priesthood,  not 
under  the  i^usd  nee  of  enliorhtened  reason  ;  ^uA  that, 
when  he  marched  on  witfi  so  bold  a  pace,  instead  of 
considering  him  a  liberator,  they  looked  on  him  as  the 
profane  persecutor  of  all  which  they  had  been  taught 
to  revere.  Francis  I.  has  re-filled  empty  monasteries, 
and  established  nesv  orders,  with  infinitely  greater  suc- 
cess, than  J.)sej)ii  experienced  in  crushing  and  curtail- 
ing them.  The  selfish  interests,  likewise,  oi'  the  great 
mass  of  the  aristocracy,  who,  till  this  day,  are  the  least 
manly  in  sentiment,  and  least  enliglitened  in  mind  of  the 
German  nobles,  tfirew  a  thousand  obstacles  in  his  way; 
and  sometimes  he  raised  obstacles  hinjsell',  by  the  very 
speed  of  his  course,  just  as  the  hoof  of  a  rapid  steed 
will  strike  fire  from  a  stone  which  a  more  moderate 
pace  vvould  have  left  undisturbed.  If  Jose[)h  had  at- 
tempted less,  he  would  have  eiFected  much  more. 

The  sc!jl«)ture  of  Vienna  has  been  more  indebted  to 
private  affection,  ttian  to  public  gratitude  or  munifi- 
cence. The  church  of  St.  A  JSfustine  contains  the  mo- 
nu  nent  erected  by  the  lafe  D  j\e  of  Sa-chsen-Teschen* 
to  his  wife  Christina,  aii  Archduchess  of  Austria.  It 
is  a  work  of  Canova,  and  is  not  onlv  amonof  his  most 
bulky  [#*oductions,  but  ranks  among  his  foremost  in 
simplicity  of  grouping,  contrast  of  form,  and  that    pro- 

*  He  died  in  1822.  burdpned  with  tue  infirmities  of  a  very  ad- 
vanced jy,  vvhsch  even  !»n!hing'  in  wine  could  not  lonq  resist.  He 
was  a  prince  of  iinmonse  wcaltii,  consider. n^  Inm  as  a  person  who 
did  not  vv^Hf  a  diaiem  Fhe  irreater  part  of  his  fortune  descend- 
ed to  a  ra  ich  better  known  per«ona8fr»,  the  Archduk*^  Charles,  of 
whom  all  V^ienua  baid,  tiidt  he  needed  it,  and  vvould  make  a  good 
QBe  of  it. 


SCULPTURE.  371 

priety  in  every  fio^ure  and  feature  of  the  diflferont  f)er- 
sonages,  on  which  the  ert'ect  of  such  a  work,  as  a  whole, 
always  depends  so  much.  Il  is  hy  iar  the  best  ol  Ca- 
nova's  nionumeiits.  In  this  d.fhcult  dej  artment  of  ihe 
art,  where  cornn)on-[)lace  combinations  on  the  one 
hand,  and  exaggerated  allegories  oii  the  other,  are  the 
quicksands  to  be  avoided,  the  great  Italian,  th(  ugh  tfse 
purity  of  his  taste  kej)t  him  far  from  the  latter,  sonje- 
times  touched  upon  the  former.*  A  pyramid  of  grey- 
ish marble,  twenty-eight  Uet  high,  and  c(  i.nected  f)y 
two  broad  steps  with  a  long  and  solid  base,  is  phiced 
against  the  wall  of  the  church.  In  the  centre  of  the 
pyramid  is  an  ope»iin^,  re[jresenting  the  entrance  of 
the  funeral  vault,  and  two  melanciioly  groupes  are 
slowly  ascending  the  ste[)S  towards  it.  The  hrst  C(  n- 
sists  of  Virtue,  bearing  the  urn  which  contains  the 
ashes  of  the  deceased,  to  be  deposited  in  the  t<-mb, 
and  by  her  side  are  two  little  giils,  carrying  torches  to 
illuminate  the  gloomy  sepulchre.  Beiind  them.  Bene- 
volence ascends  the  steps,  supporting  an  old  man,  u  ho 
seems  scarcely  able  to  totter  ah.ng,  so  rapidly  is  he 
sinking  beneath  age,  infirmity,  and  grief;  while  a  cliild, 
folding  its  little  hands,  and  hanging  down  its  head  in 
infantine  sorrow,  accompanies  hin).  On  the  other  side 
couches  a  melancholy  lion,  and  beside  him  reclines  a 
desponding  gemus.  Over  the  door  of  the  vault  is  a 
medallion  ol  the  Archduchess,  held  up  by  Happiness; 
and,  opposite,  a  genius  on  the  wing  preseiUa  to  her  the 
palm  of  trium[)h.  The  last  two  ligures,  as  well  as  the 
portrait,  are  only  in  relief  on  i\\e  body  of  the  pyraniicl ; 
all    the  others  are    round,  and  all    are  as  large  as    life. 

*  A  strong  proof  of  this  is  the  monnment  \\bich  he  executed  in 
St.  Peter's  in  Kome,  at  the  request  of  the  King-  of  Lngland,  to  com- 
memorate the  liist  niembers  ol  the  Stunrt  fumily  A  pyrnmichil 
mass,  representing  the  door  of  a  vauh,  leans  ag:iinj-l  one  of  the 
pillars;  above  it  are  medallions  of  the  persons  to  he  recorded,  iind 
00  each  side  a  gmius  hancfs  down  his  torch.  Moreover,  the  figure^, 
are  only  in  relief.     This  is  trivial. 


srs  VIENNA. 

There  is  nothing  strained  or  aifected  in  the   allegory  ; 
an   air  of  soft  and    tranquil    melancholy  pervades  the 
whole    composition;  and   the  spectator,  without   being 
very  forcibly  struck    at    tirst,  feels  pensiveiiess  and  ad- 
miration gradually  growing  upon  him.     The  figure  of 
the  old  man,  whom  Benevolence  supports  to  the  grave 
of  his  benefactress,  is  exquisite  ;   his  limbs  actually  seem 
to  fotter,  and    the    muscles  of   his  face  to   quiver  with 
agitation  ;  yet  there  is  nothing  exaggerated    in  expres- 
sion or  attitude.     The  composition  is  a  most   eloquent 
one,  but  pure  and   chaste  throughout.     There  may  be 
some    allegorical    meaning    in  the  wings  of   the  Genius 
who    reclines   on    the   lion,  being   raised;  but,  at    first 
sight,  the  spectato!'  does  not  see  why  the  wings  should 
be  in    motion,  when   the  state  of   the  fij^ure  is  that    of 
repose.     The   general    design  of   the   moiiument    was 
first   composed    by  Canova  for  a  monum.er.t  whicli   the 
V«'netian  Seriate   iiitended    to    have  erected  to  Titian, 
and    the    orio^inal    drawings  are  still    preserved    in   the 
Academy  of  Venice.     Amid  the  misfortunes  of  the  re- 
public,   the    plan  was   given  up.     The   sculptor  after- 
wards  substituted  the  emblems  of   private  virtue   and 
affection  for  the  figures  which  were  to  have  been  sym- 
bolical of  the  arts,  and  the  monument  was  usedtocom- 
memorate  the  Archduchess  Christina. 

Vienna  possesses,  by  the  fortune  of  war,  another 
great  groupe  ol"  Canova,  in  his  Theseus  killing  the  Mi- 
notaur. The  Austrians  showed  a  very  laudable  atten- 
tion to  tfie  safety  of  the  s^roupe  in  bringing  it  from  Italy  ; 
for,  excepting  a  very  brief  overland  carriag^e  in  Dalma- 
t  a,  it  was  conveyed  endrely  by  water  ;  it  was  shipped  (.n 
the  Tiber  at  Rome,  and  landed  from  tlie  Danube  at  Vien- 
na. BiJt,  in  selecting  a  site  for  it  in  their  own  capital, 
they  have  displayed  a  want  of  taste  which,  it  is  to  be 
hoped,  no  other  academy  of  the  fine  arts  would  sanction. 
The  groupe  had  been  originally  ordered  by  Buona- 
parte, for  the  purpose  of  placing  it  on  the  Porta  del 


SCULPTURE.  S7S 

Sempione,  at   Milan,  which    it  was  intended  should  be 
the  most  magniiicent  portal  in  Italy,  and  which,  1  sij|>- 
pose,  is  stili    decaying;,  unfinished,  beneath    its  wouden 
shed.     Canova  is  t-aid  to  have  mride  the  Athenian  hero 
a  portrait    of   the  French  Emperor,  so  far  as   classical 
character  left  it  in  his  power  ;  and,  on  his  downfall,  to 
have  thought  it  prudent,  or  pohte,  to  altei  the  style  of 
countenance.      I  saw  it    in  R-mie,  when  it  was  yet    un- 
finished, and  it  had  not  thesliohtest  tinge  of  Napoleon. 
On  regaining  Lombardy,  the  Emperor  cf  Austria  stop- 
ped the  building  of   the  Porta   del    Sempione;  ar  d,  as 
if  determined  to  irgure  in  every  possible  way  the  self- 
love  of  his    Italian  subjects,  he  delermincd  to    transfer 
as   a  tronhy  to  Vienna   th^^  m^jpstic  p,r  upe  nliicii  iiad 
been    destmed   for   Milan.      Apprehensions  were  very 
justly  entertained  thai  Carrara  marble  wc^uld   sp'i'edily 
suffer  from  being  exposed  in  iheojien  air  in  theclintate 
of  Austria.     The  Emperor  sug^^ested,  that  it  would  be 
best  "  to  gel  Canova  himself  to  tell  them  wliat  sort  of 
thing  they  should  put  it  ir."     Car;ova  recommended  a 
temple,  in   strict  imitation  of   the  Temple  of   Theseus 
at    Athens.     They  had    the   good  sense  to   follow    his 
advice  ;   they  have  built,  or,  at    least,  are    building  the 
temple;   but,  to  keep  it  out  of  sight  as  much  as  possi- 
ble, they  have   actually  buried  it    in  the  lowest  part  of 
the  glacis,  close  under  the  rampart  where  the  rampart 
is  highest,  and,  to    make   the  matter  worse,  they  have 
excavated  the  glacis  itself  to  a  considerable  de|)ih,  tlfat 
the    temple    may  be    still   more    under   ground.      It    isr 
sunk  in   the   ditch;  wliile,  above  it,  on  the  most  com- 
manding part  of  the  broad  bastions,  stands  the  ifashic.n- 
able    coiTee-house    of  Courtois,  whose    gay  visitors,    as 
they    lounge   along,  look    dewn  witFi  contempt  on    the 
Athenian    temple,  pushed  out  of  the  way,  at    the  very 
gates  of  Vierma.      Prince   JVIetternich,  who  adds  to   his 
other  multifarious  offices  that  of  Curator  of  the  Impe- 
rial Academy  of  the  Fine  Arts,  is  said  to  have  propos- 
ed that  the  coiTee-house  should  be  purchased,  and  the 


374  VIENNA, 

temple  built  on  its  site,  or,  at  least,  erected  on  the 
ramparts.  Instead  of  being  sunk  below  them.  This 
"Would  have  ^ivon  the  edifice  an  infinitely  more  conspi- 
cuous and  imposing  attitude;  but  perhaps  they  were 
not  fond  of  setting  the  cliaste  and  severe  majesty  of 
the  Doric  temple  in  contrast  with  the  gilded  frippery 
of  the  Church  of  St.  Charles,  which  would  have  closed 
the  view  at  the  other  extremity,  thoyn^h  at  a  consider- 
able distance.  Ii  may  be,  likewise,  that  chey  were  not 
rich  enough  to  buy  the  couee-hou^f'.* 

Besides  a  number  of  private  chapels,  and  the  meet- 
in'y-houses  of  those  communions  which  are  only  tole- 
rated bv  the  Romish  hierarchy,  Vieima  contains  fifty- 
seven  churches,  twenty  in  the  proper  city,  and  thirty- 
seven  in  the  suburbs.  Few  of  tliem  aspire  to  the 
beauties  of  modern  architecture,  but  neither  do  thry 
degenerate  into  mere  toys.  Although  they  contain 
many  reliques  of  the  olden  tirne,  which  would  have 
interest  for  the  historian  of  Vitrina,  there  is  little 
ab  )Ut  them  to  attract  the  notice  i4'  a  stranger.  St. 
MlchaeTs  has  a  good  deal  of  pillared  pomj),  though  on 
a  diminutive  scale,  and  it  is  notorious  as  a  place  of  as- 
sicrnations;  the  church  of  the  Augustir  e  monastery  is 
the  only  specimen  in  Vienna  of  the  more  light  and  airy 

*  Few  build  n^-  in  Vipnna  are  more  valiiable  than  established 
coffpe-honses,  or  apothecar}?  «ihoj)s.  '  he  reason  is,  that  here,  as 
in  some  other  Gorman  slates,  no  person  can  eng-ag-e  in  either  of 
these  professions  without  the  permission  of  the  Government,  a 
perm.ssion  always  expensive,  an  i  nner  easily  obtained.  Some- 
times the  privilej^e  is  m  rely  personal  to  the  grantee,  and  expires 
with  his  life  ;  thi**  is  the  course  most  jrenerally  followed  at  pre- 
sent;  but,  in  former  tim -s,  it  xvas  customary,  as  matter  of  special 
favour,  to  ;'.ttach  il  to  a  p;irticular  build'.ng.  v\  hich  it  follo.^"d,  mto 
tha  hands  of  whomsoever  the  house  might  come  by  sale  or  inhe- 
ritance, like  a  freehold  quaitication.  Houses  of  this  kind,  though 
frequently  of  no  worth  in  themselves,  bear  an  enormous  value. 
The  proprietor  of  a  rioffee-house  on  the  Graben  wished  to  sell  it; 
the  purcliaser.  in  addition  to  an  extravagant  price  for  the  house 
itself,  a  single  flour,  and  a  small  one,  paid  upwards  of  L.  3000  for 
the  privilege  attached  to  it. 


CHURCHES.  S7$ 

species  of  Gothic,  while  all  that  is  loftj,  imposing,  and 
sublime  in  that  style  ol  archltectuie  is  urnlecl  in  the 
cathedral,  Sf.  Siepheirs.  i(  is  the  larj^est  church  of 
Germany;  lis  length  from  the  princi[)al  gate,  wliich  is 
never  opened  but  on  \ei'y  solemn  occasions,  to  the 
eastern  extremitv,  is  (liree  luindied  arid  tiftj  feet,  and 
its  greatest  breadth  two  Hundred  and  twenty.  Thonr^h 
be^i^nn  before  the  middle  ui  iLc  uveiffh  century,  by 
the  first  Duke  of  Austria,  It  cannot  be  carried  farther 
back,  in  its  present  foim,  ihan  the  middle  of  the  thir- 
teenth, during  the  earlier  half  of  which  it  was  twice 
burned  down.  Even  then  it  was  considerably  without 
the  city,  though  it  is  now  in  Its  very  centre,  libing,  free 
from  other  buildings,  on  tlie  highest  point  of  the  slop- 
ing bank,  along  which  Vienna  swells  up  from  the  Da- 
nube. At  the  entrance  of  the  Graben,  the  most  bust- 
ling part  of  V^ienna,  in  rtgnrd  to  business,  and  forming 
part  of  its  most  fashionable  promenade,  there  still 
stands  the  trunk  of  a  tree,  a  solitary  remnant  of  the 
forest  which,  in  these  da\s,  intervened  between  the 
town  and  the  cathedral.  Bit,  like  tfje  stockings  of 
Mirtinus  Scrlblerus,  it»  identity  is  extremely  question- 
able ;  tor,  so  many  nails  have  been  driven  into  It  by 
the  idle  and  the  curious,  that  it  is  now  ^  tree  of  iron, 
and  gives  to  an  adjacent  part  of  the  street  the  name  of 
Stock-am-eisea  Platz,  lion  Trunk  Square. 

Majestic  as  the  ejiterior  of  the  cathedral  is,  it  is 
perhaps  too  heavy  ;  every  corner  is  overburtliened 
with  stone,  a  defect  which  is  not  dimlnlslied  by  the 
old  monufnents  stuck  round  its  outer  walls;  It  looks  as 
if  the  early  Austrians  had  wish(id  to  commemorate  St. 
Stephen,  by  Cv)llecting  in  his  church  as  great  a  quanti- 
ty as  possible  of  the  material  which  was  the  mstru- 
ment  of  his  snartyrdom.  But  the  intr^rior  is  noble — 
ample,  sombre,  simple,  elevated,  and  overpowering. 
The  wood<in  carvin'^  round  the  sta'ls  of  the  tribune  is 
an  interesting  memorial  of  the  early  excrllrnce  of  i  he 
Germans  in  this  branch  of  art.     There  are  une  or  two 


576  VIENNA. 

bulky  monuments,  but,  though  not  ornaments,  they  do 
not  greatly  irjterrupt  the  fine  perspective  of  the  nave 
and  aisles.  The  church,  Indeed,  derives  its  ornament 
simolv  IVoiii  its  architecture ;  the  altars  are  unassum- 
ins^,  and  their  pictures  and  statues  are  mediocre,  except 
ar)  Ecce  Homo  of  Correggio,  which  is  scarcely  visible. 
At  the  western  extremity  is  a  gaudy  chapel  of  the 
princelv  family  of  Lichtenstein,  remarkable  merely  for 
the  privilege  bestowed  upon  it  by  Pius  VI.  A  long 
in=!cription  records,  thai  by  a  grant  of  nis  H')liness,  the 
soul  of  a  Lichtenstein  shall  be  released  from  j.urgatory 
ev  ry  time  t!mt  mass  is  celebraied  at  the  aliar  of  this 
chapel.  Wlien  wealth  and  rank  can  procure  such  con- 
veniencies,  they  really  are  something  better  than  mere- 
ly temporal  advantages.  The  tower  of  the  church  Is 
rivalled  in  height  only  by  that  of  Strasburgh,  but  is  not 
so  light  and  elegant.  The  heii;hl,  from  the  pavement 
to  the  pinnacle,  is  four  hundred  and  fifty  foet.  The 
upper  and  pyramidal  part  has  most  visibly  departed 
from  the  perperulicular,  and  inclines  to  the  north. 
This  aberrai;jn  is  said  to  have  been  first  produced  by 
the  bombard-nent  of  the  Turks  in  1683,  and  to  have 
been  increased  by  the  cannonading  of  the  French  wlien 
they  marched  to  Vienna  more  than  once  during  the 
late  war. 

Vienna  is  no  longer  a  fortified  city;  promenading  is 
the  only  purpose  to  which  the  fortifications  are  now 
applied;  and,  from  their  breadth  and  elevation,  they 
are  excellently  adapted  for  it.  In  one  part  they  look 
out  upon  the  gradually  ascending  suburbs;  on  another 
the  eye  wandfrs  over  intervening  vineyards,  up  to  the 
bare  ridge  of  the  Kahlenberg,  from  which  Sobieski 
made  his  triumphant  attack  against  the  besieging 
T  jrks,  traces  of  whose  entrenchments  are  still  visible  ; 
in  another  it  rests  on  the  waters  of  the  Danube,  the 
foliage  of  the  Prater,  and  the  gay  crowds  who  are 
streaming  along  to  enjoy  its  shades.  The  tyvice  suc- 
cessful attacks  of  French  armies   having  proved  the 


THE  GLACIS.  577 

Farn parts,  or  bastions,  as  they  are  universally  called,  to 
be  useless  for  the  protection  of  the  citizens,  trees, 
benches,  and  coffee-houses  have  taken  the  place  of 
cannon,  and  rendered  them  invaluable  as  sources  of 
recreation  to  this  pleasure-loving  people.  On  Sun- 
days and  holidays,  so  soon  as  the  last  mass  has  termi- 
nated, (which  it  always  does  about  mid-day,)  they  are 
crowded  to  suffocation  with  people  of  all  ranks.  Even 
on  week  days,  so  long  as  the  weather  permits  it,  the 
coffee-houses,  surrounded  with  awnings,  are  the  fa- 
vourite resort  of  persons,  chiefly  gentlemen,  who  pre- 
fer breakfasting  in  the  open  air ;  and,  in  the  evening, 
they  are  the  favourite  resort  of  both  sexes,  especially 
of  the  middle  classes.  An  orchestra  in  the  open  air 
furnishes  excellent  music ;  as  night  comes  on,  (and  the 
crowd  always  increases  with  the  dusk,)  lamps  are  hung 
up  among  the  trees,  or  suspended  from  the  a\'»nings. 
Tlie  gay  unthinking  crowed  sits  to  be  gazed  at,  or  strolls 
about  from  one  alley  to  another  to  gaze — good  and 
bad,  virtuous  and  lost  mingled  together,  sipping  coffee, 
or  keeping  an  assignation,  eating  an  ice,  or  making 
love.  Till  ten  o'clock,  when  the  terrors  of  the  Hans- 
meister  drive  them  home,  the  ramparts,  and  the  glacis 
below,  form  a  collection  of  little  Vauxhalls. 

The  glacis  itself,  the  low,  broad,  and  level  space  of 
ground  which  stretches  out  immediately  from  the  foot 
of  the  ramparts,  and  runs  entirely  round  the  city,  except 
where  the  walls  are  washed  by  the  arm  of  the  Danube, 
is  no  longer  the  naked  and  cheerless  stripe  which  it 
used  to  be.     Much  of  it  has  been  formed  into  gardens 
belonging  to  different  branches  of  the  imperial  family ; 
the  rest  has  been  gradually   planted  and  laid  out  into 
alleys  ;  and,  two  years  ago,  the  emperor,  in  his  love  for 
his  subjects,  allowed  a  coffee-house  to  be  built  among 
the  trees.     Beyond  the  glacis,  the  ground   in  general 
rises;  and  along  these  eminences  stretch  the  thirty-four 
suburbs  of  Vienna,  surrounding  the  city  like  the  out- 
works of  some  huge  fortification,  and  finally  surrounded 
1« 


S7S  VIENNA. 

themselves  by  a  brick  wall,  a  mere  instrument  of  police, 
to  insure  the  detection  of  radicals  and  contraband  goods, 
by  subjecting  every  thing,  and  every  person,  to  a  strict 
exam  nntjon. 

The  suburbs  cover  much  more  ground  than  the 
proper  city,  bui  ihey  are  neither  so  well  built,  nor  so 
densely  inhabited.  The  Leopoldstadt,  between  the 
arm  of  the  Danube  and  the  main  stream,  is  the  most 
regular  and  most  populous,  and  contains  600  houses; 
the  smallest  of  them  contains  only  eleven  houses. 
The  proper  city  contains  little  more  than  one-sixth  of 
the  whole  number  of  houses  which  form  the  capital, 
but,  from  their  greater  size,  it  contains  a  much  larger 
proportion  of  the  whole  population,  which  is  gene- 
rally reckoned  at  from  280,000  to  300,000.  A  consi- 
derable part  of  the  suburbs  is  occupied  with  gardens, 
partly,  public,  and  partly  private  property.  Both 
Prince  Lichtenstein  and  Prince  Esterhazy,  besides  their 
houses  in  the  city,  have  palaces,  gardens,  and  picture- 
galleries  in  the  suburbs. 

Though  the  suburbs,  from  the  greater  regularity  of 
their  streets,  the  smaller  height  of  the  buildings,  and 
the  general  elevation  of  the  site,  are  in  themselves 
more  open  and  airy  than  the  city,  yet,  owing  to  the 
absence  of  pavement,  and  the  presence  of  wind,  they 
can  scarcely  be  said  to  be  more  healthy.  Vienna, 
though  lying  in  a  sort  of  kettle,  and  not  at  so  absolute 
an  elevation  as  Munich,  is  more  pestered  by  high  winds 
than  any  other  European  capital.  In  the  proper  city 
the  streets  are  paved — and  excellently  well  paved ; 
but,  throughout  the  immense  suburbs,  they  present 
only  the  bare  soil.  This  soil  is  loose,  dry,  and  sandy; 
and  the  wind  acting  upon  it  keeps  the  city  and  suburbs 
enveloped  in  a  thick  atmosphere,  loaded  with  particles 
of  sand,  which  medical  men  do  not  pretend  to  deny  has 
a  perceptible  influence  on  health.  Fronj  the  summit 
of  the  Kahlenberg,  an  eminence  about  two  miles  to 
fMe  west,  I  have  seen  Vienna  as  completely  obscured 


THE  PRATER.  ST9 

by  a  thick  cloud  of  dust,  as  ever  London  is  by  a  cloud 
of  smoke  ;  and  our  smoke  is,  in  reality,  the  less  disa- 
greeable of  the  two.  Wh'^n  the  wind  is  moderate, 
and  allows  the  dust  to  settle,  rain  commonly  follows, 
and  the  suburbs  are  converted  into  a  succession  of  alleys 
of  mud. 

The  temperature  is  extremely  variable,  principally, 
it  is  believed,  from  the  neighbourhood  of  the  Styrian 
mountams,  and  the  free  course  which  the  openness  of 
the  country,  towards  Hungary,  leaves  to  the  east  wind. 
It  not  only  varies  most  provokingly  in  the  course  of  a 
day,  but  its  changes  are  often  most  sensibly  felt  in 
merely  passing  from  one  part  of  the  city  to  another. 
It  is  to  this  that  the  medical  men  of  Vienna  almost 
universally  ascribe  the  prevalence  of  rheumatic  affec- 
tions, which,  with  gout  and  consumption,  are  the  beset- 
ting infirmities  of  the  Austrian  capital.  Consumption, 
they  say,  is  greatly  aided,  if  not  frequently  produced, 
by  the  quantity  of  dust  with  which  the  air  is  so  often 
loavled  all  day  long,  and  a  considerable  portion  of  which 
is  necessarily  inhaled  ;  while  the  acidity  of  the  native 
wines,  of  which  so  much  is  drunk,  even  by  the  lower 
classes,  comes  forth  in  the  shape  of  those  gouty  affec- 
tions so  common  in  Vienna,  not  precisely  the  genuine, 
old-English,  port-wine  gout,  but  arthritic  complaints 
differing  from  it  in  little,  except  in  degree.  Amid  the 
prevalence  of  such  ailments,  the  inhabitants  are  fortu- 
nate in  having  the  hot  springs  of  B.iden  so  near  them. 
They  are  almost  specifics  in  rheumatism.  Though 
they  find  the  gout  a  more  stubborn  enemy,  they  always 
confine  his  operations,  and  not  unfrequently  succeed  in 
putting  him  entirely  to  flight. 

The  Prater  of  Vienna  is  the  finest  public  park  in 
Europe — for  it  has  more  rural  beauty  than  Hyde  Park, 
and  surelv  the  more  varied  and  natural  arrangement 
of  its  woods  and  waters  is  preferable  to  the  formal 
basins  and  alleys  of  the  garden  of  the  Thuilleries.  It 
occupies  the  eastern  part  of  that  broad  and  level  tract 


380  VIENNA. 

on  the  north  of  the  city,  which  is  formed  into  an  island 
by  the  main  stream  of  the  Danube  on  the  one  side, 
and  the  smaller  arm  that  washes  the  walls  on  the  other. 
They  unite  at  its  extremity,  and  the  Prater  is  thus  sur-^ 
rounded  on  three  sides  by  water.  The  principal  alley, 
the  proper  arive,  runs  from  the  entrance,  in  a  long, 
straight  line,  for  about  half  a  mile.  Rows  of  trees, 
consisting  chiefly  of  horse-chesnuts,  divide  it  into  five 
alleys.  The  central  one  is  entirely  filled  with  an  un- 
ceasing succession  of  glittering  carriages,  moving  slowly 
along  its  opposite  sides,  in  opposite  directions  ;  the  two 
on  each  side  are  filled  with  horsemen,  gallopping  along, 
to  try  the  capacity  of  their  steeds,  or  provoking  them 
into  impatient  curvettings,  to  try  the  effect  of  their  own 
forms  and  dexterity  on  the  beauties  who  adorn  the 
open  caleches.  The  two  exterior  alleys  are  conse^- 
crated  to  pedestrians  ;  but  those  of  the  Viennese  who 
must  walk,  because  not  rich  enough  to  hire  a  hackney 
coach,  are  never  fond  of  walking  far ;  and,  forsaking 
the  alleys,  scatter  themselves  over  the  verdant  !awi| 
which  spreads  itself  out  to  where  the  wood  becomes 
more  dense  and  impenetrable.  The  lawn  itself  is 
plentifully  strewed  with  coffee-houses;  and  the  happy 
hundreds  seat  themselves  under  shady  awnings,  or  on 
the  green  herbage,  beneath  a  clump  of  trees,  enjoying 
their  ices,  coffee,  and  segars,  till  twilight  calls  them  to 
the  theatre,  with  not  a  thought  about  to-morrow,  and 
scarcely  a  reminiscence  of  yesterday.  But  though  the 
extremity  of  this  main  alley  be  the  boundary  of  the 
excursions  of  the  fashionable  world,  it  is  only  the  begin- 
ning of  the  more  rural  and  tranquil  portion  of  the 
Prater.  The  wood  becomes  thicker;  there  are  no 
more  straight  lines  of  horse-chesnuts  ;  the  numerous 
alleys  wind  their  way  unconstrained  through  the  forest^ 
maze,  now  leading  you  along,  in  artificial  twilightj  be- 
neath an  overarching  canopy  of  foliage,  and  now  ter- 
minating in  some  verdant  and  tranquil  spot,  like  those 
on  which  fairies  delight  to  dance  ;  now  bringing  you  to 


SOCIETY.  381 

the  brink  of  some  pure  rivulet,  which  trickles  along 
unsuspectingly,  to  be  lost  in  the  mighty  Danube,  and 
now  stopping  you  on  the  shady  banks  of  the  magnificent 
river  itself. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

VIENNA. 


AMUSEMENTS    AND    MANNERS IlELIGI ON— GOVERN- 
MENT. 

A  STRIKING  peculiarity  of  the  Austrian  capital  lies  in 
the  diversity  of  character  which  it  exhibits.  The  em- 
pire is  a  most  heterogeneous  one  ;  the  provinces  which 
compose  it  do  not  differ  more  from  each  other  in  geo- 
graphical situation,  than  they  do  in  language  and  na- 
tional character  ;  and  the  hi2:her  ranks  in  all  of  them 
are  perpetually  making  the  cornmcn  capital  the  place 
either  of  a  temporary  sojourn,  or  of  their  continued 
residence.  The  joyous  and  happy  Austrian,  always 
pleased  with  himself,  and  inclined  to  do  all  he  can  to 
please  every  body  else,  looks  with  much  indifference 
on  the  proud  step,  the  gallant  bearing,  and  magnificent 
parade  of  the  haughty  Hungarian,  who,  full  of  imagin- 
ed superiority,  and,  what  is  stranger  still,  of  imagined 
superiority   in   political  rights,*  makes  the  streets  re- 

*  The  HnngarJan  nobles  (and  every  man  calls  himself  noble  who 
is  not  an  absolute  slave,  a  mere  adscri piitius  gleboe)  place  their 
pride  in  the  political  constitution  of  their  countr}',  which  they  call 
a  free  one,  and  which  I  have  heard  them  often  set  above  that  of 
Britain.  The  Emperor,  say  they,  cannot  exact  a  farthing  or  a 
man  from  us,  or  impose  a  single  law  upon  us,  without  our  own 
permission.  This  is  a  most  ignorant  boast.  The  constitution  of 
Hungary  is,  till  this  day,  one  of  the  most  oppressive  oligarchies 
that  Europe  has  seen,  much  more  mischievous,  because  much  less 
enlightened,  than   the  destroyed  oligarchy  of  Venice.     It   is  pev 


.38£  VIENNA. 

sound  with  the  clattering  of  his  chivalrous  spurs,  even 
thouich  he  should  never  mount  a  horse.  The  Bohe- 
mian  brinj^s  along  with  him  both  more  real  feeling  and 
greater  mental  activity.  The  Pole,  while  he  mingles 
among  them,  shows,  even  in  his  pleasures,  a  degree  of 
solemnity  and  reserve,  and  still  maniiests  the  melan- 
choly feelingof  the  loss  of  nationd  independence.  The 
Italian  subjects  of  the  empire  join  in  the  crowd.  If 
business  or  cariosity  has  brought  them  to  the  capital, 
they  walk  among  the  people,  cautious  and  taciturn, 
perfectly  aware  with  what  jealousy  they  are  regard- 
ed, and  that  spies  are  watching  eveiy  step,  and  listen- 
ing to  every  word.  If  they  are  in  place,  or  are  come 
to  seek  place,  they  laud  the  beneficence,  prudence,  and 
patriotism  of  the  Austrian  Government  of  Italy  with  a 

fectly  true  that  the  aristocracy  can  controul  the  monarch  in  every 
thing  ;  bi]t  then,  it  is  equally  true,  that  nobody  can  controul  them, 
and  that  all  beneath  them  have  only  to  obey.  The  king  of  Hungary 
is,  indeed,  only  Its  first  UMgi'^trate  ;  but  its  nobiiity  are  despots,  and 
its  people  have  neither  right?  nor  \  oxe.  This  is  peculiarly  true  of 
the  rural  population,  who  are  still  the  most  dpgraded  and  maltreat- 
ed "n  Europe,  an;^)  just  in  consequence  of  the  boasted  Hungarian 
cons^tution.  If  Hungary  had  been  W;thout  this  constitution,  Maria 
Theresa,  Joseph,  and  Leopold,  could  have  done  much  more  good 
than  they  actually  succeeded  in  effecting.  There  have  been  ma- 
ny libera!  and  enlightened  despots,  but  the  world  has  not  yet  seen 
a  body  of  enlightened  and  liberal  despots.  A  learned  person  of 
Vienna  related  to  me  Ihe  foliowmg  circumstance,  of  which  he  was 
an  eye-witness.  He  had  gone  down  into  Hutigary  to  spend  a  few 
days  with  one  of  its  most  respectable  noblemen.  Taking  a  walk 
with  the  Count,  one  afternoon,  over  part  of  the  grounds,  they  came 
upon  some  peasants  who  were  enjoying  their  own  rustic  amuse- 
ments. The  Count  imagined  that  one  of  them  did  not  notice  him, 
as  lie  passed,  with  >Juihcient  humility  ;  he  inimediitely  sent  a  boy 
to  his  house  for  some  servants,  and,  so  soon  as  they  appeared,  or- 
dered them  to  se.ze,  bmd,  and  lash  the  poor  man.  His  orders  were 
instantly  executed.  W ,  thunderstruck  at  the  causeless  barba- 
rity, entreated  the  Count  to  put  an  end  to  such  a  punishment  for 
so  trivial  nn  offence,  if  it  was  one  at  all.  The  answer  was  ;  ''  What ! 
do  you  intercede  for  such  a  brute  ?  He  is  no  nobleman.  That 
these  people  may  not  think  any  bo»!y  cnres  about  them,  give' him 
twenty  more,  my  lads,  in  honour  of  W ,"  and  they  were  ad- 
ministered, 


THE  DRAMA.  S83 

servility  which  is  desj  iccible,  or  exaj^o^erRto  the  vices 
of  rhoir  ovvii  country,  and  speak  wiiii  a  toroetfulness 
of  its  true  honour  a:.J  vveliare  which  is  utterly  detest- 
able. 

But  all  these  varieties  of  population  join  in  the  uni- 
versal love  of  cnjojnient  ot  the  native  Viennese,  and 
assist  in  swelliui^j  the  stream  of  dissoluteness  and  plea- 
sure which  is  unceasingly  holding  its  way  through  the 
Austrian  capital.  Vienna,  with  a  po[)u!alion  not  ex- 
ceeding three  hundred  thousand  inhabitants,  supports 
five  theatres,  comparatively  a  much  greater  number 
than  is  found  necessary  to  minister  to  the  amusement 
of  London.  Three  of  them  are  in  the  suburbs,  and 
belong  to  private  proprietors  ;  the  two  others,  which 
are  both  in  the  city,  are  imperial  property.  There  is 
no  architectural  merit  about  them  externally;  inter- 
nally they  are  gaudy.  Each  of  the  comjjanies  has  a 
wnlk  of  its  own.  The  Barg-Tlieatre,  or  Court  Thea- 
tre, which  forms  |>art  of  the  palace,  is  appropriated 
entirely  to  the  regular  drama  ;  its  boards  are  trodden 
only  by  tragedy  and  comedv,  and  someiimes  by  that 
mixed  species  called  Schauspiel^  or  Spectacle,  which  is 
neither  the  one  nor  the  other,  has  Irequently  some- 
thing of  both,  atid,  as  its  name  imports,  is  a  banquet  for 
the  eyes,  rather  than  an  entertainment  for  fancy  or 
feeling.  Broad  vulgar  farce  is  not  often  admitted,  but 
has  found  refuge,  and  flourishes  luxuriantly,  in  the  su- 
burbs. The  performers  are  at  least  on  a  level  with 
those  of  Berlif),  but  their  tragicdeclamation  is  tiresome 
and  monotonous.  They  ai"e  perpetually  rnntirig ;  the 
public  iaste  is  not  sufficiently  pure.  Comedy  is  much 
better  oiT,  both  in  tlie  actors,  and  in  what  is  to  be  act- 
ed;  for,  afier  all,  with  the  exception  of  Schiller,  Ger- 
man tragedy  is  deficient  in  true  dramatic  stuff ;  it  deals 
more  in  situation  and  image  ry  than  in  character  and 
passion.  It  would  be  difficult,  indeed,  to  |»r6duce  any 
thiig  like  a  lon^  hst  of  comedies  which  coidd  stand  the 
test  of  slrict  criticism,  but  what  country  can   produce 


384  VIENNA. 

such  a  list  ?  There  is  only  one  School  lor  Scandal. 
People  go  to  a  comedy  to  laugh  heartily  at  the  follies 
of  other  people  ;  and  if  these  follies  be  so  represented 
as  that  sensible  and  well  bred  persons  can  enjoy  the 
ridicule,  the  theatre  will  be  filled,  in  defiance  of  critics. 
Now,  of  such  pieces  which,  though  not  displaying  a 
great  deal  of  dramatic  genius,  yield  a  great  deal  of 
amusement,  the  German  stage  has  a  large  quantity. 
To  say  nothing  of  the  endless  Kotzebue,  Ifland  proddC- 
ed  no  fewer  than  forty-eight  pieces,  Junger  twenty- 
eight,  Madam  Weissenthurn,  st»l!  an  actress  on  the  Vi- 
enna stage,  between  twenty  and  thirty,  and  Schroder 
about  thirty.  Ziegler,  too,  a  retired  performer,  has 
written  much,  but  not  well.  His  pieces  are  generally 
serious  and  showy,  excessively  dull,  full  of  rhodomon- 
tade,  and  devoid  of  character.  His  comedies  are  mis- 
erable, and  he  has  v»^ritten  an  essay  to  prove  that 
Shakespeare's  Hamlet  is  a  badly  drawn  character. 

Civil  tragedy,  if  it  be  allowable  to  borrow  the  Ger- 
man expression,  that  is,  tragedy  founded  on  the  misfor- 
tunes of  persons  in  prjvate  situations,  is  much  more 
cultivated,  and  much  more  popular  in  Germany  than 
with  us.  The  Gamesters  and  George  Barnwell  belong 
to  this  class,  but  the  Germans  have  a  host  of  them. 
Ifland  wrote  much  in  this  way,  but  is  often  dull  and  te- 
dious; his  scenes  are  frequently  mere  alterations  of  set 
rhetorical  speeches,  which  plain  and  sensible  citizens 
never  talk  to  each  other.  Vienna  possesses  an  actor, 
an  old  man,  of  the  name  of  Koch,  who  is  inimitable  in 
this  branch  of  the  drama.  I  never  knew  an  actor 
draw  so  many  tears  from  an  audience  as  this  man  does, 
when  he  plays  the  worthy  broken-hearted  father, 
borne  down  by  the  dissoluteness  or  the  crimes  of  a  son, 
as  in  the  Verbrechen  aus  Ehre. 

Altogether,  however,  the  prevailing  taste  is  for  show 
and  noise  ;  Schiller's  Maid  of  Orleans  will  always  at- 
tract a  greater  audience  than  his  Death  of  Wallen- 
stein.     So   little   accurate  are  they  even  in   this    their 


THE  DRAMA.  385 

favourite  taste,  that  the  grossest  violation  of  costume 
and  sense  are  frequently  committed  without  beirii^oven 
remarked.  In  the  Maid  of  Orleans,  Dunuis  takes  the 
place  of  the  king,  who  stands  beside  him,  for  the  j)ur- 
pose  of  essaying  whether  Johanna  will  detect  the  cheat, 
and  thus  prove  her  divine  mission.  liitho  Bin-g  Thea- 
tre, Dunois  seated  himself  or?  the  thi'one,  uncovered, 
and  in  a  very  ordinary  dress ;  Charles  stood  by,  in 
bonnet  and  plume,  and  robed  in  the  er mined  |:uiple. 
Johanna  must  have  been  very  silly  indeed  to  have 
blundered.  More  pardonable,  but  still  more  laugha- 
ble, are  the  absurdities  which  frequently  occur  in  pie- 
ces that  deal  witli  foreign  customs.  In  Ziegler's  "  Par- 
teiwuth,"  the  scene  of  which  is  laid  in  England  durmg 
the  Republic,  a  jury  makes  its  appearance  on  the  stage 
in  a  criminal  trial.  It  consists  of  six  persons;  they  are 
robed  m  the  professional  unifi^rm  of  gowns  and  wigs, 
and  talk  most  constitutionally  of  the  danger  of  lobing 
their  places  as  jurymen,  il  they  give  a  verdict  against 
the  ruling  party.  The  Shernf  presides,  though  Cliief 
Justice  Coke  has  come  down  on  purpose  to  hold  the 
commission.  His  Lordship  sits  at  the  table,  as  crown 
counsel,  and  finally  charges  the  jury.  The  censor  knew 
well,  that  such  a  representation  of  trial  by  jury  could  not 
be  infectious. 

The  finest  productions  of  the  German  Muse  are 
woefully  spoiled,  likewise,  by  tlie  scissors  of  the  cen- 
sor. Not  only  is  every  thing  omitted  winch  displeases 
the  bigotry  of  the  priesthood,  or  the  despotism  of  the 
government,  but  alterations  are  made  for  wiiich  no 
earthly  reason  can  be  assigned,  except  a  very  silly  sen- 
sibility and  mawkish  sentimentalism.  To  ^^-xchide  dan- 
gerous ideas  about  liberty  and  the  House  of  H.ipsbuigh^ 
William  Tell  is  so  miserably  mangled,  that  the  play- 
loses  all  connection.  Schiller,  in  his  Robbers,  made 
Charles  Moor  and  his  brother  sons  of  the  old  irian  :  in 
Vienna  they  are  converted  into  nephews,  for  want  of 
filial  affection,  forsooth,  is  something  too  horrible  to  be 
49 


586  VIENNA. 

brought  on  the  stage.  With  so  little  consistency  is  the 
alteration  carried  through,  that  Chailes,  af^er  he  has 
spoken  about  his  uncle  through  lour  acts,  in  the  tilth 
calls  Heaven  and  Hell  together  to  avenge  the  mal- 
treatment of  his  father.  The  monk  who  comes  to  the 
haunt  of  the  banditti,  as  ambassador  to  the  magistracy, 
and  who  makes,  to  be  sure,  a  ridiculous  enough  figure, 
is  changed  into  a  lawyer;  for,  why  should  tiie  cloth  be 
laughed  at  ?  as  if  ridiculous  priests  were  not  at  least 
equally  numerous  with  ridiculous  jurisconsults,  and  as  if 
the  danger  of  leaching  people  to  laugh  at  law  and  jus- 
tice by  the  one  exhibition,  were  not  just  as  great  as 
the  danger  of  teaching  them  to  laugh  at  religion  by 
the  other.  The  lying  account  brought  to  the  old  man 
of  the  death  of  Charles,  r€[  resents  him  to  have  fallen 
in  the  battle  of  Prague  (Kolin)  in  the  Seven  Years' 
War.  Now,  the  Austrian^  have  so  little  pleasure  in 
recollecting  the  Seven  Years'  War,  that, on  their  stage, 
the  whole  action  is  thrown  back  to  the  days  of  King 
Matthias,  and  Charles  is  made  to  fall  in  battle  against 
the  Mussulmen. 

The  very  ballets  and  operas  are  watched  over  with 
the  same  jealous  care.  It  is  very  ridiculous  to  be  so 
thin-skinned,  and  not  at  all  prudent  to  show  it.  The 
Emperor  seems  to  think  so  himself.  When  I  was  in 
Vienna,  a  drama  appeared,  Der  Tagsbrjehl^  founded  on 
the  current  anecdote  of  Frederick  the  Great,  in  the 
Seven  Years'  War,  having  compelled  an  officer  whom 
he  had  detected  writing  to  his  wife  by  candle-light, 
though  a  general  order  had  been  Issued  prohibiting 
fires  or  lights  after  sunset,  to  add,  in  a  postscript, '*  To- 
morrow I  am  to  be  shot  for  a  breach  of  duty,"  and 
having  actually  put  him  to  death.  The  piece  instant- 
ly made  a  great  noise,  for  there  were  battles  in  it ;  but 
much  more,  from  the  admirable  personification  which 
the  actor  (who  was  likewise  the  author)  gave  of  the 
Prussian  monarch.  Those  who  still  recollected  Fred- 
erick were  hurried  away  by  the  illusion.  The  Empe- 
ror saw  it,  and  was  delighted ;  and,  on  leaving  his  box. 


THE  DRAMA.  387 

said  to  one  of  the  noblemen  who  attended  him, "Now, 
1  am  glad  that  I  have  seen  it,  for,  do  ^ou  hear,  ihej 
will  be  for  prohibiting  it  immediately" — alluding  to  its 
connection  with  the  Seven  Years'  V\  ar*. 

The  other  court  theatre,  called,  from  its  situation, 
the  theatre  of  tlie  Carinihian  Gate,  is  properly  the 
opera-fiouse.  The  representations  given  in  it  are  ex- 
clusively operas  and  ballets.  No  where  are  the  one  or 
the  other  got  up  with  greater  splendour  and  expense 
than  here,  for  it  would  be  dillicult  to  find  in  Europe  a 
public  so  extravagantly  fond  of  theatrical  music  and 
theatrical  dancing  as  that  of  Vienna.  The  [)ublic 
taste  runs  much  more  in  these  two  channels  than  in 
that  of  the  regular  diama.  Melpomene  and  Tiialia 
are  even  plundered  of  their  hard  earned  gains  to  sup- 
ply the  extravagance  of  then"  meretricious  sisters. 
The  expenses  of  the  opera  and  ballet  are  so  enormous, 
that  the  income  of  the  theatre,  at  least  under  the  im- 
perial direction,  has  always  been  deficient,  and  has 
swallowed  up  the  gains  made  on  the  regular  drama. 
This  has  at  last  induced  the  government  to  put  them 
into  private  hands.  A  lease  of  the  theatie  was  given 
to  a  Neapolitan  in  1822.  He  immediately  raised  the 
prices,  and  made  the  Viennese  sulky;  he  then  produced 
an  Italian  company,  with  Rossini  at  its  head,  and  their 
singing  made  the  Viennese  enthusiastically  frantic. 

Of  the  theatres  in  the  suburbs,  that  on  the  Vienna 
holds  almost  the  same  rank  with  an  imperial  theatre. 
It  is  the  property  of  a  Hungarian  nobleman,  who, 
equally  unfortunate  in  his  management  as  the  court, 
gave  it  in  lease  to  the  same  enterprising  Italian  who 
took  the  opera  house.  It  is  the  most  elegant  theatre 
in  Vienna.  Its  boards  admit  every  thing,  the  drama, 
melo-drame,  farce,  opera,  ballet,  but  itself  and  its  per- 
formers are  fitted  only  for  mere  spectacles.  That  is 
the  path  in  which  it  finds  no  rival,  for  its  machinery- 
surpasses  all  others.  "You  will  find,"  said  the  propri- 
etor to  me  when  inviting  me  to  visit  it,  "  you  will  find 


388  flENNA. 

as  many  ropes  and  pulleys  as  in  one  of  your  ships  of 
war,"  a  woeful  recumiiiondation  of  a  theatre.  It  pos- 
sessed, till  Mtvy  lately,  a  depa^^tment  of  the  ballet 
which  was  unique  in  Europe.  The  ballet-master  had 
educated  nearly  two  hundred  children,  boys  and  girls, 
into  a  regular  corps  de  ballet.  Even  when  they  were 
dismissed,  (in  IU'2'2,)  the  o^realest  number  of  them  did 
not  exceed  twelve,  many  of  them  not  eight  years  of  age. 
Tije  ballets  composed  for  them  were  extremely  appro- 
priate, being  taken  chiefly  from  stories  of  spirits  and 
enchaniments,  in  which  the  young  dancers  appeared 
as  fairies  or  hobgoblins.  On  the  commencement  of  the 
new  management,  this  seminary  of  dancing  and  immo- 
rality  was  suppressed,  on  the  urgent  recommendation, 
it  was  universally  said,  of  the  Empress  herself. 

The  theatre  in  the  suburb   called  the  Leopoldstadt, 
though  private  properly,  is  the  true  national  theatre  of 
Austria,  the  favourite  of  the  middling  and  lower  clas&- 
es,  and  not  slighted  even   by  the   more   cultivated.     It 
is  devoted  entirely  to    mirth  and    song,    but    the  jokes 
and  character  of  the  pieces  are    throughout    Austrian. 
The  broadest  farce   and   most  extravagant    caricature, 
exaggerated  parodies,  and  the  wildest  fairy  inventions, 
are  all  made  the  vehicle  of  humour  and   satire,  which 
would  scarcely  be  understood  any  where  else,  for  they 
are  generally  founded  on  some  local  and  temporary  in- 
terest, full  of  allusions  to  the  passing  follies  of  Vienna, 
and  written  in   the   broad    and    national    dialect  of  the 
Austrian  common   people.     One    must    be    an  Austrian 
to  enjoy  them.     They  are  in  a  great  measure  lost  to  a 
stranger,  as  well  from  the  local  allusions,   as  from   the 
language.    The  performers  correspond  perfectly  to  the 
plays.      It  is  their  business  to  o'erstep  the  modesty  of 
nature;   but,  in  their  own  way,  some  of  them  are  mas- 
ters.    Schuster  is  fully  as   great    a    man  in  Vienna  as 
Matthews  is  at  home.     The  humour  is  no  doubt  broad 
and  extravagant,  and    frequently  indecent  :   but  still  it 
is  national  and  characteristic,  and  the  Austrians  are  the 


THE  DRAMA.  389 

only  people  of  Germany  who  possess  any  thing  of  the 
kind.  They  have  even  some  talent  at  caricature  ma- 
king, but  the  two  great  departments  of  that  satirical 
art,  pubhc  men  and  private  scandal,  aie  shut  against 
them.  They  are  fond  of  punning,  but  their  language 
is  too  rich  for  il.  A  celebrated  advocate  is  at  present 
the  Coryphaeus  both  ol"  the  bar  and  the  punsters. 

The  Viennese  take  to  themselves  the  reputation  of 
being  the  most  musical  public  in  Europe;  and  this  is 
the  only  part  of  their  character  about  which  they  dis- 
play much  jealousy  or  anxiety.  So  long  as  it  is  grant- 
ed that  they  can  produce  among  their  citizens  a  great- 
er number  of  decent  performers  on  the  violin  or  piano 
than  any  other  capital,  they  have  no  earthly  objection 
to  have  it  said  that  they  can  likewise  produce  a  great- 
er number  of  blockheads  and  debauchees.  They  are 
fond  of  music,  and  are  good  [)erformers;  but  it  is  more 
a  habit  than  a  natural  inclination.  Of  all  the  people 
in  Germany,  universal  as  the  love  of  music  is  among 
them,  the  Bohemians  appear  to  draw  most  directly 
from  nature.  Every  Bohemian  seems  to  be  borr*  a 
musician  ;  he  takes  to  an  instrunjent  as  naturally  as  to 
walking  or  eating,  and  it  gradually  becomes  as  neces- 
sary to  him  as  either.  In  summer  and  autumn,  you 
cannot  walk  out  ii]  the  evening,  in  any  part  of  the 
country,  without  hearing  concerts  performrd  even  by 
the  peasanti-y  with  a  precision  which  practice,  no 
doubt,  always  can  give,  but  likewise  with  a  richness 
and  justness  of  expression  which  practice  alone  caniiot 
give.  Gyrowetz  and  VVranitzky,  the  best  known  among 
the  living  native  composers  of  the  empire,  and  deserv- 
edly admired,  above  all,  for  their  ballet  music,  are  both 
Bohemians.  All  these  honours  the  Viennese  place 
upon  their  own  head.  A  capital  in  which  amusement 
is  the  great  object  of  every  body's  pursuit,  is  always 
the  place  where  a  musician,  be  he  composer  or  per- 
former, will  gain  most  money.  Every  man  of  reputa- 
tion seeks  his  fortune  in  Vienna,  and  its    citizens,  run- 


390  VIENNA. 

ning  over  a  list  of  great  names,  expect  you  should  al- 
low their  city  to  be  the  soul  of  music,  and  music  the 
soul  of  their  city.  They  have  had  within  their  walls 
Mozart,  Haydn,  and  Humn:iel ;  t!iey  have  still  among 
them  Beethoven  and  Salieri,  Gyrowetz,  and  Gelinek  : 
but  not  one  of  these  belongs  to  Austria.  That  a  man 
was  borrj  and  reared  in  Bohemia  or  Hungary,  instead 
of  Austria,  does  not  merely  mean  that  he  beloi  gs  to  a 
particular  geographical  division  of  the  same  empire. 
In  turn  of  mind,  in  manners,  in  language,  the  Austrian 
is  as  diiferent  from  the  Bohemian  or  Hungarian,  as  from 
the  Pole  or  Dalmatian.  Vanity  is  by  no  means  a  ge- 
neral failing  of  the  Austrians,  any  more  than  uf  the 
other  German  tribes;  but  when  they  attempt  to  dis- 
prove I  he  Boeotian  character  which  the  common  coun- 
try has  fixed  upon  them,  they  not  ui.frequently  just 
give  new  proofs  how  well  it  is  deserved.  I  have  seen 
a  "  Review  of  the  Literature  of  Austria"  in  a  respec- 
table periodical  of  Vienna,  in  which  the  author,  to  sup- 
port tne  honour  of  his  country  against  the  wits  of  the 
north,  actually  stuck  into  his  nosegay  of  Austrian  weeds 
all  that  had  blossomed,  during  the  preceding  twenty 
years,  from  the  mouths  of  the  Po  to  the  foot  of  the 
Sim  pi  on. 

It  *b  U'ji  11  be  denied,  however,  that  in  the  general 
diffusion  of  dilletanteism,  and  that,  too,  accompanied  by 
a  degree  of  practical  proficiency  which  rises  far  above 
mediocrity,  Vienna  has  no  superior.  Wherever  cards, 
those  sworn  enemies  of  every  thing  like  amusement  or 
lightness  of  heart,  those  unsocial  masks  of  insipidity  and 
taedium,  do  not  intrude  upon  their  private  parties  or 
family  circle,  music  is  the  never  failing  resource.  Con- 
cert playing  is  their  great  delight,  as  well  as  their  great 
excellence,  and  hence  that  admirable  accuracy  of  ear 
which  is  so  observable  in  the  Viennese.  So  soon  as  a  boy 
has  fingers  fit  for  the  task,  he  betakes  himself  to  an  in- 
strument ; — and  this,  alas  !  is  frequently  the  only  part  of 
his  education  that  is  followed  out  with  much  perseve- 


MUSIC.  39i 

ranee  or  success.  From  the  moment  he  is  in  any 
degree  master  of  his  instrument,  he  pla^s  in  concert. 
A  family  of  sons  and  daughters  who  cannot  get  up 
a  very  res|jectable  concert,  on  a  moment's  notice,  are 
cumberers  of  the  ground  on  the  banks  of  the  Da- 
nube. This  practice  necessarily  gives  a  fiigh  degree 
of  precision  in  executiou,  and,  to  a  certain  extent, 
even  dehcacv  of  ear ;  but  still  al!  this  is  in  thie  Vicn- 
nese  only  a  habit,  and  a  very  artificial  one.  They  may 
become  more  accurate  performers  than  the  citizens 
and  peasantry  of  the  south,  but  they  will  never  feel 
the  influence  of  "sweet  sounds"  with  half  the  ener- 
gy and  voluj>tuousness  which  they  infuse  into  the  I  a- 
lian.  The  enjoyment  of  the  former  is  confined  to  the 
powers  of  the  instrument,  the  latter  carries  the  notes 
within  himself  into  regions  of  feeling  beyond  the  direct 
reach  of  string  or  voice  ;  the  one  would  be  lost  in  the 
singer,  the  other  would  forget  the  singer  in  the  music. 
Go  to  an  opera  in  any  provincial  town  of  Italy.  In  the 
pit  you  will  probably  find  yourself  surrounded,  I  do  not 
say  by  tradesinen  and  shopkeepers,  but  by  vetturinos, 
porters,  and  labourers.  Yet  you  will  easly  discover, 
that  what  to  the  same  sort  of  persons  in  any  other 
country  would  be  at  best  tiresome,  if  not  ridiculous,  is 
to  them  an  entertainment  of  pure  feeling.  You  will 
mark  how  eagerly  they  follow  the  expression  of  the 
melody  and  harmony;  you  will  hear  them  criticise  the 
music  and  the  musicians  with  no  less  warmth,  and 
with  far  more  judgment,  (because  it  is  a  thing  much 
more  wilhin  their  reach,)  than  our  pot-house  politi- 
cians debate  on  the  reform  of  the  British  Parliament,  or 
the  constitution  of  the  Spanish  Cortes.  Is  it  not  ow- 
ing to  this  inherent  natural  capacity  of  understanding 
and  speaking  the  language  in  which  music  addresses 
us,  that  Italian  singers  have  maintained  their  pre-emi- 
nence in  Europe  since  operas  were  first  known?  In 
every  capital  of  the  Continent,  and  even  among  our- 
selves, there  are  native  voices  as  good,  impioved  by 


39£  VIENNA. 

as  studious  industry,  managed  with  as  much  practical 
skill,  and  acconi^)aiiied  by  as  great  theoretical  knowl- 
edge, as  ever  crossed  the  Alps.  Yet  they  never  pro- 
duce the  same  eifect  in  any  music  that  rises  above  me»- 
diocrity. 

iVIl  this  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  comparative  me- 
rits of  the  music  of  Italy  and  Germany.  Great  com- 
posers, like  great  poets,  are  the  same  every  where. 
They  are  ail  made  of  the  same  stutE  The  musical 
taste  of  the  Viennese  has  been  formed  and  saved  by 
the  purity  of  their  great  composers.  In  their  love  of 
practical  excellence,  they  would  have  run  into  the 
heartless  rattling,  the  capriccios,  and  bizarrerie  of  the 
French  school;  but  the  admirably  good  taste  of  their 
masters  has  always  kept  them  within  due  bounds. 
People  who  reckon  it  almost  a  misfortune  not  to  be 
able  to  hum  Don  Giovanni,  or  the  Creation,  without 
book,  are  in  little  danger  of  falling  into  extravagances. 

Beethoven  is  the  most  celebrated  of  the  living  com- 
posers in  Vienna,  and,  in  certain  depariments,  the  fore- 
most of  his  day.  Though  not  an  old  man,  he  is  lost 
to  society  in  consequence  of  his  extreme  deafness, 
which  has  rendered  him  almost  unsocial.  The  neglect 
of  his  person  which  he  exhibits  gives  him  a  somewhat 
wild  appearance.  His  features  are  strong  and  promi- 
nent ;  his  eye  is  full  of  rude  energy  ;  his  hair,  which 
neither  comb  nor  scissors  seem  to  have  visited  for 
years,  overshadows  his  broad  brow  in  a  quantity  and 
confusion  to  which  only  the  snakes  round  a  Gorgon's 
head  offer  a  parallel.  His  general  behaviour  does  not 
ill  accord  with  the  unpromising  exterior.  Except 
when  he  is  among  his  chosen  friends,  kindliness  or  affa- 
bility are  not  his  characteristics.  The  total  loss  of 
hearing  has  deprived  him  of  all  the  pleasure  which  so- 
ciety can  give,  and  perhaps  soured  his  temper.  He 
used  to  frequent  a  particular  cellar,  where  he  spent 
the  evening  in  a  corner,  beyond  the  reach  of  all  the 
chattering  and  disputation  of  a  public  room,  drinking 


MUSIC.  398 

wine  and  beer,  eating  cheese  and  red  herrings,  and 
studying  the  newspapers.  One  evening  a  person  took 
a  seat  near  him  whose  countenance  did  not  please  him. 
He  looked  hard  at  the  stranger,  and  spat  on  the  floor 
as  if  he  had  seen  a  toad  ;  then  glanced  at  the  newspa- 
per, then  again  at  the  intruder,  and  spat  again,  his 
hair  brisrliujj  gradually  into  m^re  shaggy  ferocity,  till 
he  closed  the  alteination  of  spitting  and  staring,  by 
fairly  exclaiming,  "What  a  scoundrelly  phiz!"  and 
rushing  out  of  the  room.  Even  among  his  oldest 
friends  he  must  be  humoured  like  a  wavward  child. 
He  has  always  a  small  paper  book  with  him,  and  what 
conversation  takes  place  is  carried  on  in  writing.  In 
this,  too,  although  it  is  not  lined,  he  instantly  jots  down 
any  musical  idea  which  strikes  him.  These  notes 
would  be  utterly  unintelligible  even  to  another  musi- 
cian, for  they  have  thus  no  comparative  value  ;  he 
alone  has  in  his  own  mind  the  thread  by  which  he 
brings  out  of  this  labyrinth  of  dots  and  circles  the  rich- 
est and  most  astounding  harmonies.  The  moment  he 
is  seated  at  the  piano,  he  is  evidently  unconscious  that 
there  is  any  thing  in  existence  but  himself  and  his  in- 
strument ;  and,  considering  how  very  deaf  he  is,  it 
seems  impossible  that  he  should  hear  all  he  plays. 
Accordingly,  when  playing  very  piano,  he  often  does 
not  bring  out  a  sinjjle  note.  He  hears  it  himself  in 
the  "  mind's  ear."  While  his  eye,  and  the  almost  im- 
perceptible motion  of  his  fingers,  show  that  he  is  fol- 
lowino;  out  the  strain  in  his  own  soul  through  all  its 
dying  gradations,  the  instrument  is  actually  as  dumb  as 
the  musician  is  deaf. 

I  have  heard  him  play,  but  to  bring  him  so  far  re- 
quired some  management,  so  great  is  his  horror  of  be- 
ing any  thing  like  exhibited.  Had  he  been  plainly 
asked  to  do  the  company  that  favour,  he  would  have 
flatly  refused  ;  he  had  to  be  cheated  into  it.  Every 
person  left  the  room,  except  Beethoven  and  the  mas- 
ter of  the  house,  one  of  his  most  intimate  acquaintari- 
50 


394  VIEN3MA. 

ces.  These  two  carried  on  a  conversation  in  the  pa- 
per book  about  bank  stock.  The  gentleman,  as  if  by 
chance,  struck  the  kejs  of  the  open  piano,  beside 
which  they  were  sitting,  gradually  began  to  run  over 
one  of  Beethoven's  own  compositions,  made  a  thousand 
errors,  and  speedily  blundered  one  passage  so  thorough- 
ly, that  the  composer  condescended  to  stretch  out  his 
hand  and  put  him  right.  It  w^as  enough  ;  the  hand 
was  on  the  piano;  his  companion  immediately  left  him, 
on  some  pretext,  and  joined  the  rest  of  the  company, 
who,  in  the  next  room,  from  which  they  could  see  and 
hear  every  thing,  were  patiently  waiting  the  issue  of 
this  tiresome  conjuration.  Beethoven,  left  alone,  seat- 
ed himself  at  the  piano.  At  first  he  only  struck  now 
and  then  a  few  hurried  and  interrupted  notes,  as  if 
afraid  of  being  detected  in  a  crime  ;  but  gradually  he 
forgot  every  thing  else,  and  ran  on  during  haif  an  hour 
in  a  phantas' ,  in  a  style  extremely  varied,  and  marked, 
above  all,  by  the  most  abrupt  transitions.  The  ama- 
teurs were  enraptured  ;  to  the  uninitiated  it  was  more 
interesting,  to  observe  how  the  music  of  the  man's  soul 
passed  over  his  countenance.  He  seems  to  feel  the 
bold,  the  commanding,  and  the  impetuous,  more  than 
what  is  soothing  or  gentle.  The  muscles  of  the  face 
swell,  and  his  vems  start  out ;  the  wild  eye  rolls  dou- 
bly wild;  the  mouth  quivers,  and  Beethoven  looks  like 
a  w^izard,  overpowered  by  the  demons  whom  he  himself 
has  called  up. 

There  is  a  musical  society  in  Vienna,  consisting  of 
nearly  two  thousand  members,  by  far  the  greatest  part 
of  whom  are  merely  amateurs.  Many  of  them  are 
ladies;  even  a  princess  figures  in  the  catalogue  as  a 
singer,  for  no  person  is  admitted  an  active  member 
who  is  not  able  to  take  a  part,  vocal  or  instrumental, 
in  a  concert.  They  seem  to  expend  more  ingenuity  in 
inventing  new  instruments  than  in  improving  the  ma- 
nufacture of  known  ones.  I  have  heard  Beethoven 
say,  that  he  found  no  pianos  so  good  as  those  made  in 


MUSIC.  S9^ 

London.  Every  body  knows  the  Harmonica,  at  least 
by  name  ;  but  what  will  the  reader  say  to  the  Phys- 
harmonica,  the  Ditanaclasis,  the  Xanorphica,  the  Pam- 
melodicon,  the  Davidica,  the  Amphiona?  Considering 
bow  far  the  Austrians  are  behind  in  most  tilings  in 
which  a  people  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  being  behind, 
it  is  a  thousand  pities  that  pursuits  of  higher  utility 
and  respectability  cannot  obtain  from  them  a  greater 
share  of  the  industry  and  perseverance  which  so  many 
of  them  display  in  the  acquisition  of  this  elegant  ac- 
complishment. They  have  an  excellent  opera,  and 
that  is  sufficient  to  console  them  for  the  fact,  that  in 
the  whole  range  of  German  literature,  a  literature, 
young  as  it  is,  studded  with  so  many  bright  names, 
there  is  not  a  single  great  man  whom  Aiistria  can  claim 
as  her  own.  In  Vienna,  with  three  hundred  thousand 
inhabitants,  there  are  thirty  booksellers,  four  circulat- 
ing libraries,  sixty-five  piano-forte  makers,  and  dancing- 
halls  without  number. 

Many  of  these  dancing-halls  are  institutions  for  infa- 
mous purposes.  They  belong  to  private  proprietors, 
"who  are  always  innkeepers.  On  the  evening  of  every 
Sunday,  and  generally  of  every  great  religious  festival, 
"when  every  body  is  idle  and  seeking  amusement,  these 
congregations  are  opened  in  the  suburbs  as  well  as  in 
the  city.  The  balls  given  in  them  are  less  or  more 
merely  a  pretext  for  bringing  worthless  persons  toge- 
ther. The  price  of  admission  is  extremely  low,  for  the 
scoundrelly  landlord  speculates  on  the  consumption  of 
wine  and  eatables  during  the  evening.  In  more  cases 
than  one,  the  object  is  so  little  concealed,  that  females 
are  admitted  gratis;  and  the  hand-bill,  which  fixes  the 
price  of  admission  for  gentlemen  at  fourpence  or  six- 
pence, adds,  with  a  very  appropriate  equivoque,  Das 
Frauenzimmer  istfrey.  It  is  thus  that  these  institutions, 
by  furnishing  opportunity,  and  inflaming  the  passions  at 
so  cheap  a  rate,  diffuse  the  poison  of  licentiousness 
among  the  males  of  the  middle  and  lower  orders,     Ag 


3##     -  VIENNA.. 

to  the  ladies  again,  those  who  aspire  at  being  sought, 
instead  of  seeking,  those  who  consider  themselves  as 
forming  the  aristocracy  of  their  own  community,  and 
the  Corinthian  capital  of  prostitution,  carefully  avoid 
all  such  iniercourse  with  their  more  vulgar  sisters. 
In  this  they  show  a  wiser  feeling  of  dignity  and  reserve 
than  their  betters.  In  external  behaviour,  however, 
these  lost  creatures  are  perhaps  the  uiost  deceiit  in 
Europe.  You  run  no  risk  of  b<:ing  even  addressed, 
much  less  of  being  attacked  with  the  gross  depravity 
of  Covent-Garden  or  the  Palais  Royal. 

How  do  the  rest  of  the  ladies,  then,  behave  in 
Vienna?  Really,  generally  speaking,  not  much  better. 
There  cannot  be  a  more  dissolute  city — one  where 
female  virtue  is  less  prized,  and,  therefore,  less  fre- 
quent. A  total  want  of  principle,  the  love  of  pleasure, 
and  the  love  of  finery,  are  so  universally  diffused,  that 
wives  and  daughters,  in  not  only  what  we  would  call 
comfortable,  but  even  affluent  circumstances,  do  not 
shrink  from  increasing  the  means  of  their  extravagance 
by  forgetting  their  duty.  They  sacrifice  themselves, 
not  so  much  from  inclination,  as  from  interest.  You 
will  probably  find  in  Naples  or  Rome  as  many  faithless 
wives,  who  are  so  from  a  temporary  and  variable  liking, 
as  in  Vienna;  but  you  will  not  find  so  many  who  throw 
away  their  honour  from  the  love  of  gain.  The  advan- 
tage seems  to  be  on  the  side  of  the  Italian.  Worth- 
less as  both  are,  even  a  passing  liking  is  something  less 
degrading  than  the  mere  infamous  calculation  of  pounds^ 
shillings,  and  pence,  without  even  the  excuse  of  poverty. 
The  girls  of  the  lower  classes  grow  up  to  licentiousness | 
the  rage  for  dress  and  luxury  is  no  less  strong  among 
them  than  among  their  superiors;  and  thcugfi  it  cer^ 
tainly  looks  like  a  harsh  judgment,  it  is  not  too  much 
to  say,  as  a  general  truth,  that,  from  the  time  they  are 
capable  of  feeling  this  love  of  show  and  easy  living, 
they  consider  their  person  as  the  fund  that  is  to  supply 
the  meaiH  of  its  gratification.     It  is  not  seduction :  it 


MANNERS.  397 

is  just  a  matter  of  sale  ;  nor  arc  mothers  ashamed  to 
be  the  brokers  of  their  daughters.  Tlierc  Is  no  want 
of  purchasers.  The  most  famous,  or  rather  infamous, 
is  Prince  Kaunitz.*  He  is  said  to  possess  a  gahery  of 
purchased  beauties,  that  might  stand  by  the  side  of  an 
Eastern  seraolio.  This  was  not  enough.  The  infan- 
tine  years  of  some  of  his  victims  produced  fngl.tiul 
ehari^es  against  him.  An  inccijsed  fal^rjijr,  disregarding 
the  daiJi;er  of  accusirjg  a  powerful  man.  cnm[>iained 
directly  to  the  Emperor.  The  Emperor  instantly 
ordereu  Kaunitz  to  be  imprisoned, and  proceeded  against 
criminally.  He  had  been  in  prison  nearly  two  months 
when  I  'cft  Vienna,  and  the  inquiry  was  not  yet  finished. 
The  Viennese,  however,  though  a  little  astounded  at 
the  uncommon  idea  of  a  high  nobleman  being  actually 
imprisoned  for  crimes  not  political,  soon  recovered  their 
senses;  and  every  body  believed  his  punishment  would 
be — a  prohibition  to  appear  at  court,  and  an  order  to 
reside  for  a  while  on  his  estates  in  the  country. 

The  quantity  of  licentiousness  is  commonlj  smallest 
in  the  middle  class  of  a  people.  It  is  not  so  in  Vienna, 
at  least  among  the  men.  To  hear  the  nonchalance  with 
which  a  party  of  respectable  merchants  or  shopkeepers 
speak  of  their  amours,  you  would  think  them  dissolute 
bachelors;  vet  they  are  husbands  and  fathers,  and, 
provided  all  circumstances  of  public  scandal  be  avoided, 
it  never  enters  their  heads  that  their  conduct  has  any 
thing  improper  in  it.  Every  one,  male  and  female, 
bears  most  Christianly  with  every  other.  All  this 
leads  to  a  strange  mixture  of  society,  particularly  on 
public  occasions.  In  a  Baden  assembly-rocm,  it  is 
nothing  uncommon  to  see  worthless  women  elbowmg 
the  Arch-duchesses  of  Austria.  Hf^re  walks  tKe  Em- 
press, and  there  a  couple  of  genteel  frail  ones  Irom 
Vienna.     It  is  perfectly  true,  that  it  is  a  ball-room,  and 

*  Surely  there  is  no  indelicncv  in  mentioning  the  name  of  a 
princely  (hbauchee,  whose  conduct  has  become  the  subject  €)i 
investigation  m  a  court  of  criminal  justice. 


S98  VIENNA. 

the  ticket  costs  only  elghteen-pence  ;  and,  as  worthy 
women  say,  how  can   we   prevent  tliem  from  coming, 
when   they   pay   their  money?    But   thither   virtuous 
women  do  go,  knowing   perfectly  well  beforehand  the 
sort  of  society  with  which  they  will  infaiHb!y  be  mixed 
up.     The  gentlemen  do  not  seem  to  lay   themselves 
under  much  restraint.     I   have  seen  noblemen,  in  the 
presence   of  the  court,  flutter  for  a   while   round   the 
more  distinguished  of  these  creatures,  and  then  return 
to  flutter  round   the   maids  of  honour.     It    is  in  vain 
that  their  Iinperial   Majesties  are  spotless  in  their  life 
and  conversation;  it  does  not  go  beyond   themselves; 
the  public  mind  is  vitiated  through  and  through;  they 
are  surrounded    bv   a   mass   of  coiruution,    much   too 
dense  to  be  penetrated  by  the  light  of  any  single  exam- 
ple.*    A  wealthy  foreigner,  generally  resident  in  Vien- 
na,  the   companion   of  princes   and    ministers,  used   to 
drive  his  mistress  into  the  Prater  before  the  admiring 
and  envious  eyes  of  all  the  world.     The  gir!  had  what 
in  this  country  would  be  called  the  impudence  to  invite 
most  of  the  ministers  and  corps  diplomatique  to  a  ball  ; 
and  they  had  what  in  this  C(  untry  would  be  called  the 
forgetfulness  of  character  to  go.     Prince    'Vletternich 
being  asked  by  a  foreign  minister  whether  he  intended 
to  go,  archly  answered,  "  Why,  T  would  rather  like  to 
see  the  thing;  but,  you  know,  it  might  hurt  one's  cha- 
racter here  !"    When  it  was  proposed  to  Joseph  II.  to 
build  licensed  brothels,  the  Emperor  said,  *' The  walls 
would  cost  me  noihing,  but  the  expense  of  roofing  would 
be  ruinous,  for  it  would  just  be  necessary  to  put  a  roof 
over    the    whole    city."      The   hospitals   and    private 

*  Munich  is,  at  least,  not  worse  than  Vienna,  for  nothings  can  be 
worse ;  and  from  a  statement  in  the  Hamburg  Correspondent,  in 
May  1*^)2  ,  it  ai)pe:irs  that  304  legitimat*^  children  were  born  in 
Munich,  in  the  first  three  months  of  that  year,  and  307  illegitimate 
children.  If  to  the  acknowledged  illegitimate  we  add  those  of  the 
ostensibly  legitimate  who  have  no  other  claim  to  the  title  than  the 
maxim,  pater  est  quern  nuptice  deinonstrant^  what  a  result  comes  out 
fis  to  the  morality  of  these  capitals  f 


MANNERS.  399 

sick-rooms  of  Vienna  teem  with  proofs  how  mercifullj" 
Providence  acted,  when  it  placed  the  quicksilver  mines 
of  Idria,  in  a  province  destined  to  form  part  of  an 
empire  of  which  Vienna  was  to  be  the  capital. 

This,  with  the  general  want  of  manly  and  indepen- 
dent feeling,  of  which  it  is  merely  a  modificatiou,  is  the 
worst  point  in  the  character  of  the  Viennese ;  setting 
aside  this  unbounded  love  of  pleasure,  and  the  disincli- 
nation to  rigorous  industry,  either  bodily  or  intellec- 
tual, that  necessarily  accompanies  it,  they  are  honest, 
affectionate,  and  obliging  people.  There  is  some 
weakness,  however,  in  their  fondness  for  being  honour- 
ed with  high  sounding  f^rms  of  address.  This  Jib|.'0- 
sition  may  be  expected,  in  isonif  dcj^rce  or  other,  in 
every  country  where  tlie  received  forms  of  society  and 
modes  of  ihiiiking  give  every  tiling  to  rank,  and  noth- 
ing to  character  ;  but  no  where  is  it  carried  to  such  an 
extravagant  length  as  in  Vienna,  producing  even  sole- 
cisms in  language.  Every  man  who  holds  any  public 
office,  should  it  be  merely  that  of  an  under  clerk,  on  a 
paltry  salary  of  forty  pounds  a-year,  must  be  gratified 
by  hearing  his  title,  not  his  name;  and,  if  you  have  oc- 
casion to  write  to  such  a  person,  you  must  address  him, 
not  merely  as  a  clerk,  but  as  "Imperial  and  Boyal 
Clerk,"  in  such  and  such  an  "  Imperial  and  Royal  Of- 
fice." Even  absent  persons,  wlien  spoken  of,  are  ge- 
nerally designated  by  their  official  titles,  however 
humble  and  unmeaning  these  may  be.  The  ladies  are 
not  behind  in  asserting  their  claims  tu  honorary  appel- 
lations. All  over  Gerinany,  a  wife  insists  on  taking  the 
official  title  of  her  husband,  with  a  fen.inine  terr^rma- 
tion.  There  is  Madaai  G«aieraless,  Madam  Pi«vy- 
councilloress.  Madam  Chitf-book-keeperess,  and  a  hun- 
dred others.  In  Vienna,  a  shopkeeper's  wife  will  not 
be  well  pleased  with  any  thing  under  Gnadige  Frcu, 
Gracious  Madam.  It  is  equally  common,  and  still 
more  absurd,  for  both  sexes  to  prefix  von  (of),  the 
symbol  of  nobility,  to  the  sirname,  as  if  the  latter  werf^ 


400  VIENNA. 

the  name  of  an  estate.  A  dealer  in  pickles  or  pipe 
heads,  for  instance,  whose  name  inaj  happen  to  be  Mr. 
Charles,  must  be  called,  if  jou  wish  to  be  polite,  Mr.  of 
Charles,  and  his  helpmate  Mrs.  of  Charles.  Koizebue 
has  ridiculed  all  this  delightfully  in  his  Deutsche 
Kleinstadte^  the  most  laughable  ol"  all  farces. 

This    looseness    of    morals,   so    disgraceful    to    the 
Austrian  capital,  if  not  aided,  is,   at    least,   verj   little 
restrained    by    religion ;    that     hajjpy  self-satisfaction 
under    certain     iniquities,     which    only    quickens    our 
pace  in  the  career  of  guilt,  though  it   may  not  form 
any  part  of  the  doctrines  of  the  Catholic  church,  is  an 
almost  infallible  consequence   of  the  deceptive  nature 
of  many  parts  of  lier  ritual,  and  exists  as  a  fact  in  every 
country  where    her  hierarchy  is  dominant,  and  no  ex- 
traneous circumstances  m  dify  its  corrupting  influence. 
Popery  is   tlie   established   rehVion  in  all  the  provinces 
of  the  empire  ;   but,  since    JosepJi    II.    had    t\ie  manli- 
ness and  justice  to  forsake   the  barbarous  policy  of  his 
mother,    who   hunted    down   even   the   few   straggling 
Protestants    that    lurked    in  the    mountains  of  Slyria, 
every  other  form  of  worship  has  been  tolerated.     Pro- 
testants are   not    very    nunjerous   in  Vienna  itself,  and 
they  are  not    so   much  Austrians  by  birth,  as  iaiiiilies 
from  the  Protestant  states  ol    Gernjany,  and  the  north 
of  HiingdiVy.,  who  have  settled  in  Vienna.      The  Luthe- 
rans have  one  meeting-house,  and  the  Calvinists  anoth- 
er, placed  side  by  side,  and  both  of  them  partly  form- 
ed of   what,   forty  years    ago,   was   a   Popish  convent. 
The  clergymen  are   excellent   preachers,  and  enjoy  a 
reputation  for  eloquence  and  learning  w  hicb  no  Catho- 
lic ecclesiastic  surpasses.     The  congregations,  though 
not  imposing  in  numbers,  are  more  than  respectable  in 
character  and    wealth  ;  in   bad  weather,  the  array  of 
carriages  at  the  Protestant  meeting-houses  is  not  equal- 
led at  the  doors   of  any  Catholic  church.     The  most 
numerous  class  of  Christians,  not  Papists,  are  the  ad- 
herents of  the  Greek  church:  they  are  said  to  exceed 


RELIGION.  401 

four  thousand,  and  they  have  four  chapels.  The  Jews 
have  a  couple  of  ciiapels.  Vienna  contain?  many  Is- 
raehtes  of  ^rcat  woaUh,  and,  therefore,  of  high  impor- 
tance;  it  contains  still  more  of  those  who,  to  gain 
worldly  respectability,  have  ostensibly  become  con- 
verts to  Christjanity.  Many  generations  must  pass 
away  before  the  latter  will  gain  all  that  they  contem- 
plated in  submitting  to  be  baptized,  or  be  allowed  to 
feel  that  their  blood  has  been  regenerated :  ein 
haptizirter  Jude,  a  baptized  Jew,  is  always  pronounced 
as  a  term  of  contempt.  But  these  persons  are  rich; 
and  Christian  youths,  like  Vespasian  with  the  produce 
of  his  tax,  find  no  unseemly  odour  in  the  gold  of  a  Jew- 
ish bride. 

Joseph  administered  such  violent  medicines,  and 
Leopold,  during  his  brief  reign,  was  so  unwilling  to  ad- 
minister restoratives,  that  the  monkish  institutions  of 
the  empire,  reduced  to  a  skeleton,  were  rapidly  ap- 
proaching their  dying  hour  ;  his  present  majesty,  him- 
self a  most  devout,  and  unaffectedly  devout  man,  mount- 
ed the  throne,  and  they  have  recovered  much  of  their 
monastic  corpulence.  Nay,  four  years  ago,  Vienna 
presented  the  spectacle  of  the  creation  of  a  new  order, 
at  a  time  when,  in  every  other  country  of  Europe, 
there  was  but  one  voice  amongst  reasonable  men 
against  the  increase  of  such  orders,  if  not  for  the  sup- 
pression of  those  which  already  existed.  The  new 
order  originated  in  the  expulsion  of  the  Jesuits  from 
Russia,  some  of  whom  found  protection  in  Vienna. 
It  Avas  thought  prudent  to  avoid  the  odious  name 
which  had  already  exposed  them  to  destruction  in  so 
many  corners  of  Europe,  and  the  new  order  was  erect- 
ed under  the  name  of  Redemptorists.  This  appella- 
tion was  shortly  afterwards  abandoned  for  that  of  Li- 
corians,  from  an  Italian  St.  Licorius,  whose  principles 
and  rules  of  life  were  declared  to  be  those  of  the  or- 
der. The  number  of  its  members  has  increased  ra- 
pidly, and  the  Emperor  has   made   them  a  present  of 


462  VIENNA. 

one  of  the  churches  in  the  city.  The  most  celebrated 
amongst  them  is  Father  Werner,  a  Protestant  apostak 
He  is  a  Prussian,  and  opened  his  career  with  f^  sadtic 
poetry.  His  productions  are  chieliy  dramatic,  ex- 
tremely irregular,  almost  universally  imbued  with 
mysticism,  but  full  of  lire  and  imaginaiion.  The  best 
is,  the  Weihe  der  Kraft,  w^hich  is  merely  the  com- 
mencement of  the  Reformation  dramatized,  and  has 
been  represented  on  the  Berlin  stage.  For  a  time,  he 
led  a  very  gay  life  in  Paris  ;  he  returned  to  Prussia, 
entered  the  Protestant  church,  married,  and  continued 
to  write  mystical  dramas.  Of  a  sudden  he  removed 
to  Vienna,  changed  his  religion,  and  was  rewarded 
with  an  ecclesiastical  appointment.  It  is  doubtful 
whether  he  be  more  fanatic  or  hypocrite ;  public  opi- 
nion, however,  among  well  educated  persons,  runs  most 
generally  for  the  latter.  He  has  contrived  to  gain  the 
crowd  and  the  simple,  by  outward  demonstrations  of 
superior  sanctity,  and  by  a  style  of  preaching  which, 
though  devoid  of  popular  eloquence,  wins  the  multi- 
tude by  its  plain  vulgarity,  and  amuses  by  its  eccentri- 
city,— an  eccentricity  and  vulgarity  which  the  better 
instructed  hold  to  be  mere  affectation,  for  no  man,  say 
they,  was  ever  more  formed  for  a  courtier,  and  a  ca- 
balling courtier,  too,  than  Father  Werner.  The  fact 
is,  that  his  hopes  of  advancing  by  the  favour  of  the 
great  seem  to  have  perished,  for  his  motives  and  de- 
signs have  been  penetrated  ;  and,  moreover,  the  new 
Archbishop  of  Vienna  is  not  favourable  to  the  new  or- 
der. He  therefore  seeks  the  sources  of  his  influence 
and  reputation  among  classes  which  must  be  pleased 
by  other  means,  and  there  he  has  found  them  ;  the 
order  prospers,  and  Father  Werner,  the  most  impor- 
tant member  of  the  order,  must  flourish  along  with  it. 
I  have  seen  him  in  a  public  bath  at  Baden,  whenever 
a  lady  approached  him  in  the  motley  crowd,  standing 
up  to  the  neck  in  hot  water,  make  the  sign  of  the 
cross,  and  turn  away,  as  if  with   an,  Avaunt  thee,  Sa- 


RELIGION.  403 

tan;  he  lounged  through  the  public  walks,  always 
reading  ;  he  seated  himself  to  dinner  at  a  Restaura- 
teur's, and,  while  he  ate,  a  brother  of  the  order,  who 
attended  him  as  domestic,  read  to  him  from  a  thick 
quarto. 

As  the  order  was  not  endowed  with  property,  its 
principal  revenues  lie  in  the  contributions  of  the  faith- 
ful, and  in  drawing  within  its  toils  persons  of  some  for- 
tune. The  most  mischievous  thing  is,  that  it  has  al- 
ready succeeded  in  seducing  useful  men  from  active 
life.  Dr.  Veith  was  the  first  man  in  Austria,  and 
among  the  first  in  Europe,  in  the  vetcriiiary  art  ;  at 
the  head  of  the  Imperial  Veterinary  Institution,  his  in- 
structions and  writings  were  forming  a  new  epoch  in 
this  branch  of  medical  science.  The  cantirig  of  the 
Licorians  reached  him  ;  he  resigned  wealth  and  fame 
to  seek  salvation  among  the  new  brethren.  The  Em- 
peror is  said  to  have  personally  remonstrated  with  him, 
in  vain,  against  a  mistaken  devotion  which  has  render- 
ed him  equally  useless  to  himself  and  to  society.  Nor 
are  these  the  only  men  whom  prudence  or  bigotry  in 
Vienna  has  drawn  into  political  or  religious  apostacy. 
Gentz,  bought  into  the  service  of  the  cabinet,  draws 
up  the  declarations  of  the  Holy  Alliance  as  manfully 
as  he  once  addressed  liberal  exhortations  to  the  King 
of  Prussia.  Frederick  Schlegel,  too,  seems  to  have 
laid  his  genius  to  rest,  since  he  sat  himself  down  in  the 
German  Boeotia,  to  fatten  on  the  sweets  of  an  Austri- 
an pension.  He  has  the  reputation  of  being  occasion- 
ally employed  to  pen  political  articles  for  the  Austrian 
Observer.  I  have  heard,  indeed,  his  nearest  relations 
deny  it ;  and  it  certainly  would  be  diflicult  to  find,  in 
that  newspaper,  any  article  that  required  Frederick 
Schlegel's  cleverness;  but,  nevertheless,  it  is  the  pub- 
lic voice  of  Vienna,  and  it  is  natural  that  he  should 
continue  to  take  an  interest  in  a  journal  which  he  him- 
self first  established. 


404  VIENNA. 

While  such  things  are  going  on,  it  would  be  rain  to 
expect  any  dtcav  of  superstition  among  tlsose  who  pre- 
tend to  have  any  religion  at  all.  Prince  Metternich  is 
much  too  sensible  a  mftB^and  much  too  jealous  of  his 
own  omnipotence,  to  allow  the  priesthood  to  controul 
his  imperial  master  or  himself,  but  he  delivers  up  the 
subjects  to  their  mercy.  The  superstition  of  the  peo- 
ple is  even  fostered  by  the  government  encouraging 
pompous  pilgrimages,  for  the  purpose  of  obtaining  the 
blessing  of  heaven  by  walking  fifty  miles  in  hot  weath- 
er. The  favoured  spot  is  Mariazell,  in  Styria,  and  the 
pageant  is  commonly  played  off  in  July  or  August.  The 
imperial  authority  is  interposed  by  a  proclamation  af- 
fixed to  the  great  gate  of  St.  Stephen's,  authorizing  all 
pious  subjects  to  perform  this  mischievous  act  of  holy 
vagabondizing,  that  they  may  implore  from  the  Virgin 
such  personal  and  domestic  boons  as  they  feel  them- 
selves most  inclined  to,  and,  at  all  events,  that  they  may 
supplicate  continued  prosperity  to  the  house  of  Haps- 
burgh.  On  the  appointed  day,  the  intended  pilgrims 
assemble  in  St.  Stephen's,  at  four  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing ;  most  of  them  have  been  anxiously  accumulating 
many  a  day's  savings,  to  collect  a  few  florins  for  the 
journey,  for  they  generally  do  not  return  before  the 
fourth  day.  Mass  is  performed,  and  the  long,  mot- 
ley line,  consisting  of  both  sexes,  and  all  ages,  separat- 
ed into  divisions  by  religious  standards  and  gaudy  cru- 
cifixes, alternately  cheered  and  sanctified  by  the  trum- 
pets and  kettle-drums  which  head  each  division,  and 
the  hymns  chaunted  by  the  pilgrims  who  compose  it, 
wends  its  long,  toilsome,  and  hilly  way,  into  the  moun- 
tains of  Styria.  The  procession  which  I  saw  leave  Vi- 
enna consisted  of  nearly  three  thousand  persons,  and 
they  were  all  of  the  lower  classes.  The  upper  ranks 
do  not  choose  to  go  to  heaven  in  vulgar  company  ;  and, 
if  they  visit  Mariazell  at  all,  they  make  it  a  pleasure 
jaunt,  (for  the  place  of  pilgrimage  lies  in  a  most  roman- 
tic country,)  like  an  excursion  to  the  Lakes  of  Scotland 


RELIGION.  405 

or  Cumberland,  and  pray  to  the  Virgin  eji  passant.  Fe- 
males predominated  ;  there  were  many  children,  and 
some  of  them  so  young,  that  it  seemed  preposterous 
to  produce  (hem  in  such  a  fatiguing  exhibition.  The 
young  women  were  numerous,  and  naturally  were  the 
most  interesting  objecis.  Many  of  them  were  pretty^ 
but  they  were  almost  all  bareT oted,  both  from  econo- 
my, and  for  the  sake  of  ease  in  traveliii:  ^  Observant 
of  the  pilgrim's  costume,  they  carrier!  long  statts,  head- 
ed with  nosegays,  and  wore  coarse  straw-bonnets,  with 
enormous  brims,  intended  to  protect  their  beauties 
against  the  scorching  sun, — unaware,  perhaps,  of  the 
more  fatally  destructive  enemy,  who,  ere  this  perilous 
journey  is  terminated,  cuts  down,  in  too  many  instances, 
the  foundation  of  that  pleasing  modesty  with  which 
they  pace  forth  to  the  performance  of  what  they  reck- 
on a  holy  duty.  Joseph  II.  saw  and  knew  all  the  mis- 
chief of  the  ceremony,  and  abolished  the  pilgrimage  ; 
Francis  I.  restored  and  fosters  it. 

But,  though  the  Austrians  have  no  great  capacity 
for  thinking,  and  a  very  great  capacity  for  immorality 
and  superstition,  much  of  both  must  be  ascribed  to  that 
total  prostration  of  intellect  which  their  government  in- 
flicts upon  them,  a  prostration  which  can  never  exist 
long,  in  the  degree  in  which  it  exists  in  Vienna,  with- 
out producing  some  degradation  of  the  moral  princi- 
ple. The  whole  political  system  is  directed,  with  piy- 
mg  and  persecuting  jealousy,  to  keep  people  in  igno- 
rance of  all  that  goes  on  in  the  world,  except  what  it 
suits  the  cabinet  to  make  known,  and  to  prevent  peo- 
ple from  thinking  on  what  is  known  differently  from 
the  way  in  which  the  cabinet  thinks.  All  the  modes 
of  education  are  arranged  on  the  same  depressing  prin- 
ciple of  keeping  mind  in  such  a  state,  that  it  shall  nei- 
ther feel  the  temptation,  nor  possess  the  ability,  to  re- 
sist power.  During  the  Congress  of  Laybach,  the 
Emperor  said  to  the  teachers  of  a  public  seminary,  "I 
Want    no   learned    men;    I    need  no  learned  men;  I. 


406  VIENNA. 

want  men  who  will  do  what  1  bid  them,"  or  some- 
thlno"  to  the  same  purpose, — the  most  unfortunate 
words  for  the  honour  of  his  throne,  that  could  be  put 
in  the  mouth  of  a  monarch.  The  principle  Is  fully 
acted  on  in  Vienna  ;  over  all  knowledge,  and  all  thlnk- 
ino",  on  every  thing  public,  and  on  every  thing  relating 
to  the  political  events  and  institutions  not  only  of  the 
empire,  but  of  all  other  countries,  there  broods  a 
"  darkness  which  may  be  felt  ;"  nowhere  will  you  find 
a  more  lamentable  ignorance,  or  a  more  melancholy 
horror  of  being  suspected  of  a  desire  to  be  wise  above 
what  is  written  down  by  the  editor  of  the  Austrian 
Observer.  Nothing  is  known  but  to  official  men;  and 
the  first  official  duty  is  to  confine  all  knowledge  within 
the  official  circle.  Talk  to  a  Viennese  about  the  finan- 
ces, for  example.  What  is  the  amount  of  the  public 
revenue?  I  don't  know.  What  is  done  with  it?  I 
don't  know.  How  much  does  your  army  cost  ?  I  don't 
know.  How  much  does  the  civil  administration  cost  ? 
I  don't  know.  What  is  the  amount  of  your  public 
debt  ?  I  don't  know.  In  short,  do  you  know  any  thing 
at  all  about  the  matter,  except  how  much  you  pay 
yourself,  and  that  you  pay  whatever  jou  are  ordered  ? 
Nothing  on  earth. 

The  Austrian  police, — monstrum  horrendum^  ingens  ; 
' — it  cannot  be  added,  cui  lumen  ademptum^  for  it  has 
the  eyes  of  an  Argus,  though  no  Mercury  has  ye\  been 
found  to  charm  them  to  sleep,  while  he  rescued  manly 
thought  and  intellectual  exertion  from  the  brute  form 
into  which  political  jealousy  has  metamorphosed  them. 
The  French  police  under  Napoleon  was  reckoned  per- 
fect ;  in  efficiency,  it  could  not  possibly  surpass  that  of 
Vienna,  which  successfully  represses  every  expression 
of  thought,  by  forcing  on  all  the  deadening  conviction, 
that  the  eyes  and  ears  of  spies  are  every  where.  The 
consequences  of  a  denunciation  are,  secret  arrest,  se- 
cret Imprisonment,  and  an  unknown  punishment.  It 
can  be  tolerated  in  some  measure,  that  spies  should  bf^ 


THE  POLICE.  407 

placed  in  coffee-houses,  in  the  apartments  of  Restau- 
rateurs, or  in  places  of  public  amusement  ;  for,  on  such 
occasions,  every  sensible  person,  to  whatever  country 
he  may  belong,  ^vill  be  on  his  guard  ;  but  it  is  sicken- 
ing when,  even  in  private  society,  he  must  open  his 
lips  under  the  conviction  that  there  may  be  a  spy  sit- 
ting at  the  same  table  with  him.  This  is  the  case  in 
Vienna  to  a  very  great  extent.  The  efficacy  of  such 
a  system  depends  on  those  who  are  its  instruments  be- 
ing unknown;  but,  if  the  Viennese  themselves  may  be 
believed,  not  only  men,  but  women,  too,  and  men  and 
women  of  rank,  are  in  the  pay  of  the  secret  police. 
Among  those  whom  you  know  to  be  your  personal 
friends,  if  you  indulge  in  a  freedom  of  opinion  on  which 
you  would  no*t  venture  in  more  mixed  society,  they 
will  draw  back  with  a  sort  of  apprehension,  and  kind- 
ly warn  you  of  the  danger  to  which  you  are  exposing 
both  them  and  yourself.  This  is  true,  not  merely  of 
what  might  be  considered  modes  of  thinking  hostile  to 
the  whole  frame  of  government,  but  it  is  equally  so  of 
individual  acts  of  administration, — if  you  question,  for 
instance,  the  propriety  of  punishing  a  public  peculator, 

like  T ,  by  dismissing   him   with  a  pension,  or  the 

purity  of  the  motives  which  procured  Count  A his 

provincial  government.  The  government  is  not  even 
very  fond  that  its  measures  should  be  praised  ;  it  is 
much  better  pleased  that  nothing  be  said  about  them 
at  all. 

This  is  the  general  spirit  of  the  thing.  Every  Eng- 
lishman who  has  been  much  conversant  with  Vienna, 
and  occasionally  forgotten  where  he  was,  must  have 
felt  it  so.  Of  the  practical  efficiency  of  the  system  of 
espionage  take  a  single  example.  A  certain  Russian 
nobleman  was  resident  at  Vienna  in  1821.  His  politi- 
cal opinions  were  known  to  be  somewhat  more  liberal 
than  was  agreeable  to  the  courts  of  Vienna  and  Pe- 
tersburgh  ;  above  all,  he  was  favourable  to  the  Greeks. 
The   burden   of  the  Austrian   minister's   political   ha- 


40S  VIENNA. 

rangues  delivered  twice  a  week  at  his  levees  was, 
"  You  see  it  is  the  same  thing  with  ail  of  tl»em,  whe- 
ther in  Spain,  or  Italy,  or  Greece  ;  it  is  just  rebel  A, 
rebel  B,  rebel  C,  and  so  on."  This  nobleman,  himself 
a  pretty  regular  attender  of  these  levees,  thought  oth- 
erwise, and  had  amused  himself  with  drawing  up  a  dis- 
course to  prove  that  the  Greeks  could  not  be  consid- 
ered and  ought  not  to  be  treated  as  rebels.  He  had 
communicated  it  to  some  of  his  intimate  acquaintances. 
A  few  days  afterwards  the  manuscript  was  not  to  be 
found  in  his  desk.  He  immediately  understood  the 
matter,  and  foresaw  the  consequences.  The  next  cou- 
rier but  one  from  St.  Petersburgh  brought  a  very 
friendly  expressed  notice  from  the  Autocrat,  that,  until 
some  determinate  resolution  was  adopted  regarding 
Greece,  it  would  be  agreeable  to  his  Imperial  Majesty 

that  Prince should  choose  his  residence  elsewhere 

than  in  Vienna.  The  recommendation,  of  course,  was 
attended  to,  and  the  prince  retired  to  a  six  months' 
tiresome  sojourn  in  a  provincial  town. 

Foreigners  are  still  more  pryingly  watched  than  na- 
tives, and  Englishmen  more  than  any  other  foreigners, 
except  Italians.  An  English  gentlemian's  papers  were 
seized  one  morning  in  a  domiciliary  visit  by  agents  of 
the  police,  carried  off,  examined,  and  returned.  "  Mind 
what  you  are  about,"  said  a  foreign  minister,  who  was 
stating  this  circumstance  next  day  to  another  British 
sojourner,  "  Mind  what  you  are  about ;  I  know  you 
keep  something  like  a  journal ;  take  care  what  you 
put  in  it,  and  that  nobody  shall  know  what  you  do  put 
in  it." 

It  is  not  only  always  an  imprudence,  but  in  general 
it  is  a  piece  of  mere  foolish  affectation,  for  a  stranger 
in  any  country  to  use  language  or  behaviour  which  ne- 
cessarily exposes  him  to  the  odium  of  the  government, 
however  allowable  or  laudable  they  may  be  at  home. 
Our  own  countrvmen,  unaccustomed  to  bridle  their 
t#ngues  about  any  thing,  and  fortunately  trained  in  ha- 


THE  POLICE.  409 

bits  whicli  give  them  a  strong  inclination  to  speak  se- 
verely on   such   a  state  of  things  as  exists  in   the  Aus- 
trian capital,   are  pecuMarly  liable  to  fall  into  this   er- 
I'or,  for  an  error  it   is,  unless  some  powerful  call  of  hu- 
manity justify    the   saciiiice    of    prudence    to  feeling. 
They  are  too  apt  to  forget  the    homely  saying,  that  it 
is  folly  to  live  in    Rome  and   quarrel  with    the    Pope. 
Now  it  so  happens    that  Rome  is  the  place  where    an 
Englishman  is  allowed  to  take  his  own  way  more  free- 
ly than  in  any  other  despotic  country  of  the  Continent 
— at  least  it  was   so   in  the  late  pontificate,  under   the 
administration  of  Consalvi.     Ttie  police  of  Vienna  is 
much  more  imperative,  and  in  all    probability  immedi- 
ately orders   such   a   person  to   quit    the   empire.     A 
young  Englishman,  apparently  as  harmless  and  affected 
a  specimen  of  the  dandy  as  ever  emigrated  from  Bond 
Street,  was  ordered  to  leave  the  capital  on  a  very  brief 
notice,  because,  according  to  his  own  account,  he    had 
been  preaching   the   doctrines  of  Tom  Paine  in  a  cof- 
fee-house.     If  it  was  so,  a  piece  of  such  egregious  fol- 
ly deserved   no  better  treatment.     Of  all    the   exhibi- 
tions of  English   growling  few  are  more    amusing  than 
that  of  a  sturdy  Englishman  compelled  to  undertake  a 
long  journey  in  this  unceremonious  fashion,  because  he 
has  forgotten  the  ditference    between  the  ministers  of 
Francis    I.,  and  the  ministers  of  George    IV.     Having 
received  orders  to  depart,  away  he  hastens  full-mouth- 
ed to  his  minister,  with  v*hom  he  can  use  his  own  lan- 
guage and  his  own  feelings.      He  displays  his  passport, 
demands    protection  as  a  British  subject,  and    perhaps 
hints  something   about   responsibility  to  the    House  of 
Commons.     But   no   Excellency  can  prevent  the   laws 
of   the   country,  such   as    they  are,  from    taking  their 
course  ;  John  must  go.     And    now  every  thing  is  sour- 
ed   to    him.     The  danseuses  of   the  Karntherthor   are 
ugly  and   awkward  ;  the  choicest  viands  of   Widman's 
kitchen   are  only  fit    for  dogs ;  he  quarrels  with  every 
item  in  his   landlord's  bill ;  he  pays  the  servants  nig- 
52 


410  ■  VIENNA. 

gardlj,  or  not  at  all,  for  "  The  brutes  that  submit  to 
such  a  government  do  not  deserve  to  possess  a  half- 
penny." He  gets  into  his  carriage,  while  the  myrmi- 
dons of  the  police  look  on  in  disguise.  The  postilion, 
the  horses,  and  his  own  servant,  come  in  for  their  full 
share  of  his  bad  humour ;  the  only  dependent  he  has 
is  made  to  feel  all  the  burden  of  his  inferiority ;  and 
John  drives  across  the  frontier,  swearing  that  England 
is  the  only  country  fit  for  a  gentleman  to  live  in,  and 
that  every  man  is  a  fool  who  puts  himself  in  the  power 
of  Alexander,  or  Francis,  or  Frederick  William.         yiry^ 

While  the  police  hunts  out  words  and  deeds,  the 
censorship  labours  to  confine  thought.  No  where  in 
Germany  is  it  exercised  with  such  jealous  rigour  as 
here,  particularly  in  regard  to  public  affairs,  to  history 
and  theology.  A  great  number  of  what  may  be  called 
literary  journals  are  published  in  the  capital,  but  they 
are  either  mere  vehicles  of  amusement,  full  of  dull 
tales  and  charades,  or  devoted  to  the  fine  arts  and 
theatrical  criticisms.  The  *•'  Jabrbiicher  der  Litera- 
tur,"  (Annals  of  Literature,)  the  Quarterly  Review, 
so  to  speak,  of  Vienna,  is  more  respectable,  but  it  is 
written  according  to  the  censor's  rule,  just  as  much  as 
the  most  trifling  weekly  sheet.  The  treatment  which 
a  literary  article  written  for  this  review  met  with,  will 
better  illustrate  the  spirit  of  the  censorship,  than  a 
hundred  general  statements.  The  present  patriarch 
of  Venice,  a  Hungarian  by  birth,  and  a  person  of  ele- 
gant acquirements,  published  an  epic  poem,  the  Tuni- 
siad,  of  which  Charles  V.  is  the  hero,  and  his  expedi- 
tion against  Tunis  the  subject.  He  has  used  as  ma- 
chines various  sorts  of  good  and  evil  spirits,  the  for- 
mer   fighting    for    the    Christians,   the   latter   for  the 

infidels.     C n,    who,    though    not     without    taste, 

happens  to  be  a  bigot,  a  pietist,  and  a  censor  of  the 
press,  had  expressed  great  dissatisfaction  with  these 
spirits,  as  being  irreconcileable  with  any  system  of  or- 
thodoxy :  and,   for   this    very    reason,    I    believe,    he 


THE  PRESS.  411 

refused  to  review  the  book,  though  he  had  reviewed 
another  production  of  the  patriarch,  "  Pcrlen  der 
heihgen  Vorzeit,"  a  collection  of  sacred  songs,  and  re- 
viewed it,  the  author  himself  says,  con  amor e,  A  lite- 
rary person,  the  librarian  of  a  Hungarian  prince,  wrote 
a  review  of  the  Tunisiad.  Whatever  he  might  think 
of  the  poetical  worth  of  the  spirits  as  machines,  he 
defended  them  at  least  in  regard  to  orthodoxy,  and 
w^ould  by  no  means  grant  that  a  poet  was  to  be  tried 
like  a   writer  of  homilies.     The    manuscript   of   this 

article  fell  into  the  hands  of  C n,  as  censor.     After 

some  time  he  returned  it  to  the  author,  having  not  on- 
ly erased  every  thing  that  it  contained  in  defence  of 
the  profane  machines,  but  having  ins'^.rted  sentiments 
of  quite  an  opposite  tendency.  Wha;  was  worse,  the 
passages  cited  by  the  reviewer  were  distorted  by  the 
censor.  The  sense  was  altered;  and  even  the  verses, 
which  are  very  flowing,  well  built  hexameters,  were, 
in  many  instances,  new  cast,  and  converted  into  lines 
which  bade  defiance  to  the  rules  of  all  prosodies,  an- 
cient or  mcdern.  The  reviewer  naturally  was  very 
angry,  sat  as  censor  on  the  censor,  erased  ail  that  the 
impertinence  and  bigotry  of  the  latter  had  interlarded, 
and  it  was  only  in  this  mutilated  form  that  the  article 
was  allowed  to  be  printed. 

The  population  of  the  Austrian  empire,  including 
Hungary  and  the  Italian  States,  is  commonly  stated  at 
about  twenty-three  millions;  the  number  of  newspa- 
pers printed  in  it  does  not  amount  to  thirty  !  In  Vien- 
na itself  there  are  only  two  proper  newspapers  ;  three 
others,  one  of  which  is  printed  in  Hungarian,  another  in 
Servian,  and  the  third  in  modern  Greek,  for  the  use  of 
these  nations,  are  merely  transcripts.  These  two  are 
the  Austrian  Observer  and  the  Vienna  Gazette.  The 
Observer  is  the  proper  political  paper;  the  Gazette, 
though  it  gives  political  intelligence,  is  the  mercantile 
and  advertising  paper.  It  has  existed,  under  different 
forms,  since  1703.     It  has  a  monopoly  of  all  advertise- 


4U  VIENNA. 

ments,  and  all  notifications  from  the  public  offices,  and 
pays  for  this  privilege  a  yearly  sum  of  nearly  L.  2000 
to  government.  The  Observer,  which  is  pubhshed 
daily,  even  on  Sunday,  (it  costs  L.  1,16s.  yearly,)  is 
sufficiently  well  known  ail  over  Europe.  It  is  the  offi- 
cial political  paper,  and  there  is  no  other;  it  is  the 
faithful  reflection  of  the  Austrian  policy,  the  speaking 
trumpet  through  which  the  Austrian  cabinet  makes 
known  to  the  empire  whatever  it  thinks  proper 
should  be  known,  or  wishes  to  be  believed.  Tlie  in- 
telligence which  it  extracts  from  foreign  journals  has 
always  the  same  tendency  :  no  syllable  of"  opinion,  and 
no  fact  which  might  lead  a  rational  Austrian  to  think 
otherwise  than  ihe  minister  wishes  he  should  think, 
can  be  admitted.  The  leading  articles  are  said  even 
to  pass  occasionally  under  the  review  of  the  minister 
himself.  The  editor  is  a  M.  Pilate,  ever  ready,  like 
his  pagan  namesake,  to  become  a  passive  instrument, 
whenever  the  cabinet  calls  out  against  a  fact  or  an 
opinion,  "Crucify  it,  crucify  it." 

The  foreign  journals  which  are  admitted  are  narrow- 
ly watched.  They  are  examined  before  being  deliver- 
ed, and,  if  they  contain  articles  which  are  thought  un- 
safe for  the  reading  public  of  Vienna,  the  numbers  are 
kept  back,  except  from  persons  whose  rank  commands 
respect,  or  whose  principles  are  known  to  be  immove- 
ably  fixed  by  interest.  One  who  had  no  access  to 
English  papers  would  never  have  learned  in  Vienna, 
that  the  declaration  issued  by  the  Allied  Sovereigns  at 
Laybach  had  produced  such  strong  denunciations  of  its 
principles  in  the  British  Parliament,  or  thiaf  Lord  Cas- 
tlereagh's  circular  had  been  written.  "  You  English- 
men," said  an  old  merchant  to  me,  "you  Englishmen 
certainly  are  the  best  subjects  in  Europe;  your  news- 
papers are  always  pleased  with  the  government,  and 
prajslrjg  it."  I  was  naturally  startled  at  the  assertion, 
and  asked  his  reasons  for  it.  "  Why,"  said  he,  "don't 
I  read  all  the  extracts  from  your  journals  in  our  news- 


THE  IMPERIAL  FAMILY.  413 

papers,  and  they  are  always  in  praise  of  the  measures 
of  government." 

Our  dishke  to  the  arbitrary  principles  and  illiberal 
policy  of  the  Austrian  government  has  led  us  to  be  un- 
just to  the  members  of  the  Austrian  family.  It  has 
become  common  to  rail  at  them  as  stupid  people. 
There  is  no  ground  for  this.  There  is  not  a  stupid 
man  amongst  them,  unless  it  be  the  Crown  Prince, 
whose  countenance  does  betray  something  like  imbe- 
cility and  whose  character  is  alleged  to  possess  a  great 
deal  of  it.  The  Archdukes,  the  Emperor's  brothers, 
are  all  well  informed  men,  and  perfectly  qualified  to 
command  respect  any  where.  The  Archduke  John 
blundered,  indeed,  in  the  battle  of  Asperne  ;  the  fault, 
however,  did  not  lie  with  him,  who  never  pretended  to 
be  a  soldier,  but  with  those  who  made  him  a  soldier, 
instead  of  allowing  him  to  follow  his  own  pursuits  of 
gathering  plants,  breaking  mineralogical  specimens,  and 
shooting  chamois  in  the  mountains  of  Styria.  His  ex- 
ample and  exertions,  aided  by  ttie  establishment  of  the 
Johanneum  at  Gratz,  have  done  much  for  the  practi- 
cal improvement,  at  least,  of  natural  history  in  Austria. 

The  Aivhduke  Charles  is  very  popular.  The  Aus- 
trians  are  apt  to  exagfiferate  his  military  genius;  but  to 
have  coped  with  Moreau,  as  he  did  cope  with  him,  is 
no  mean  renown  to  a  military  man.  In  all  his  habits 
he  is  entirely  domestic  and  unaffected.  He  takes  his 
walk  along  the  streets,  or  on  the  ramj>arts,  with  a 
child  in  each  hand,  as  simply  dressed,  and  as  simply  af- 
fectionate, as  any  father  in  Vienna. 

The  Emjjerc.r  himself,  though  without  any  reach  of 
political  talent,  is  very  far  indeed  from  bcmg  a  stupid 
man;  no  one  who  knows  him  ever  thinks  of  calling  him 
so.  He  is  about  fif^y-six  years  of  age,  but  appears 
much  older.  His  countenance  belokei.s  strongly  that 
simplicity  of  character,  and  (^ood  nature,  which  are  the 
most  prominent  features  of  his  disposition,  but  it  does 
not  announce  even  that  quantity  of  penetration  which 


414  VIENNA. 

* 

he  is  allowed  on  all  hands  to  possess.  His  manners  are 
simple  and  popular  in  the  extreme ;  he  is  the  enemy 
of  all  parade.  Except  on  particular  occasions,  he 
comes  abroad  in  an  ordinary  coloured  dress,  without 
decorations  of  any  kind  ;  and  not  unfrequently  you  may 
light  upon  him  in  a  black  or  brown  coat  which  hun- 
dreds of  his  subjects  would  disdain  to  wear.  In  some 
part  of  the  long  line  of  light  and  splendid  equipages 
which  move  down  to  the  Prater,  in  the  evening,  the 
Emperor  may  often  be  discovered  driving  the  Empress 
in  an  unostentatious  caleche,  with  a  pair  of  small,  quiet 
horses,  that  will  neither  prance  nor  run  away.  Here, 
however,  driving  is  easy ;  once  into  the  line,  there  is 
no  getting  out  of  it. 

There  are  few  more  popular  monarchs  in  Europe 
than  the  Emperor  Francis,  excepting  always  among  his 
Italian  subjects.  There  is  but  one  ardent  feeling  of 
dislike  of' the  Austrian  yoke  from  the  Laguna  of  Ve- 
nice to  the  Lago  Maggiore ;  but  his  German  subjects 
are  affectionately  attached  to  him.  I  do  not  mean  that 
they  feel  the  enthusiasm  which  may  be  excited  by 
distinguished  qualities,  or  by  great  services  he  has  done 
them ;  on  the  contrary,  his  reign  brought  heavier  ca- 
lamities upon  them  than  Austria  had  felt  since  the 
Thirty  Years'  War.  But  they  have  forgotten  all  these 
hardships  in  their  strong  and  true  attachment  to  his 
personal  character.  They  like  his  good  natured  plain- 
ness, for  it  is  entirely  in  their  own  way  ;  even  the  cor- 
rupt German  wlilch  he  speaks  pleases  them,  for  it  is 
theirs.  Twice  a  week,  and  at  an  early  hour  in  the 
morning,  he  gives  audiences,  to  which  all  classes  are 
not  only  admitted,  but  which  are  expressly  interjded 
for  the  middling  and  lower  ranks,  that  they  may  tell 
him  what  they  want,  and  who  has  injured  them.  Not 
one  of  his  subjects  is  afraid  of  presenting  himself  be- 
fore Franzel,  the  affectionate  diminutive  by  which  they 
love  to  speak  of  him.  He  listens  patiently  to  their 
petitions  and  complaints  :  he  gives  relief,  and  good  na- 


THE  EMPEROR.  415 

tured,  fatherly  advice,  and  promises  of  justice  ;  and  all 
the  world  allows  him  the  determination  to  do  justice 
so  far  as  he  can  see  it.  The  results  of  this  must  not 
be  sought  in  the  foreign  policy  or  general  administra- 
tion of  his  empire  ;  on  these  he  holds  the  opinions 
which  his  house  has  held,  and  his  people  has  admitted, 
for  centuries  ;  these  are  irrevocably  in  the  hands  of  his 
ministers.  But  complaints  of  individual  oppression  or 
injustice  always  find  in  him  an  open  and  honest  ear,  and 
the  venal  authorities  have  often  trembled  before  the 
plain  sense  and  downrioht  love  of  justice  of  the  empe- 
ror. Any  personal  efficacy,  however,  of  this  sort  in 
the  monarch  of  an  extensive  empire  can  never  go  far ; 
the  very  interference  is  a  proof  oif  bad  government, — of 
a  government  in  which  no  private  rights  are  recog- 
nized, or,  as  most  frequently  happens,  in  which  there 
are  no  public  institutions  operating  impartially  to  secure 
these  rights.  Wherever  a  monarch  must  interfere 
personally  to  do  justice,  it  is  a  proof  either  that  the 
laws  are  at  variance  with  justice,  or  that  those  who 
.administer  them  are  scoundrels. 

The  emperor  came  to  his  throne  a  young  man,  and 
found  himself  called  on  to  cope  with  the  French  Re- 
volution, a  task  which  would  have  proved  too  great  a 
trial  for  a  prince  of  much  greater  experience  and  grasp 
of  intellect.  He  was  compelled  to  throw  himself  into 
the  arms  of  ministers,  and  the  events  of  the  protracted 
struggle,  always  increasing  in  importance  to  Europe 
and  Austria,  have  kept  him  in  this  official  embrace,  till 
it  has  become  too  late  to  unlock  it.  At  the  head  of 
the  ministry  stands  despotic  the  Chancellor  of  State, 
Prince  Metternich,  the  most  powerful  individual  in  Eu- 
rope who  does  not  wear  a  crown.  A  private  noble- 
man from  the  banks  of  the  Rhine,  whose  most  cele- 
brated vineyard  has  been  bestowed  on  him  by  the 
grateful  monarchs  for  whom  he  laboured,  he  has  rais- 
ed himself  to  be  absolute  master  of  the  empire, 
firmly  rooted  in  the  confidence  of  his  master,  unwilling 


416  VIENNA. 

to  bear  a  rival  near  the  throne,  but  neither  liked  nor 
admired  by  the  people.  When  I  first  saw  him  in  the 
ball-room  at  Baden,  he  was  sitting  by  the  court,  hut  yet 
alone.  He  was  dressed  in  a  plain  suit  of  black,  for  it 
was  the  mourning  for  the  late  queen  of  England.  His 
eyes  were  fixed  on  the  floor,  as  if  in  deep  thought,  ex- 
cept when  they  glanced  up  to  follow  the  fair  Countess 

A ,  who  was  flying   round  the  hall    in    the   waltz. 

His  appearance  has  nothing  striking  or  commanding. 
He  is  of  middling  stature,  rather  meagre  than  other- 
wise, but  altogether  a  handsome  man.  His  counte- 
nance is  pale  ;  his  large,  broad  brow  is  marked  with 
what  seem  to  be  the  wrinkles  of  cunning,  rather  than 
the  furrows  of  thought ;  his  smile  appears  to  be  so  ha- 
bitual, that  it  has  scarcely  any  character,  except  when 
it  is  satirical.  His  manners  are  polite  and  conciliating, 
for  he  is  through  and  through  a  man  of  the  world.  He 
possesses  in  a  high  degree  the  power  of  concealing  his 
own  sentiments,  and  a  coolness  which  keeps  him  clear 
of  all  embarrassment. 

It  is  in  vain  to  deny  that  Prince  Metternich  pos- 
sesses talent,  because  we  dislike  his  politics.  What  he 
has  made  himself  is  an  irrefragable  proof  that  he  must 
be  a  clever  man.  It  would  be  equally  unjust  to  judge 
of  him  from  the  extravagant  eulogiums  of  those  who 
flutter  round  him  at  his  levees,  and  worship  no  other 
idol  than  their  political  maker.  In  the  country  which 
he  governs,  among  men  who  have  heads  to  judge,  and 
no  temptation  to  judge  partially,  you  will  never  hear 
ascribed  to  him  any  comprehensive  political  view,  or 
any  commanding  quality  of  intellect;  their  praise  sel- 
dom rises  above  "  II  est  tres  adroit" — shrewdness  in 
detecting  means,  and  patience  and  tact  in  using  them, 
are  his  excellences.  They  usually  quote  the  success 
with  which  he  blinded  Napoleon,  and  his  mmisters  and 
marshals,  at  Dresden,  regarding  the  designs  of  Austria, 
as  the  chef  d'oeuvre  of  his  political  skill,  and  add,  "  In 
what  does  political  skill  of  this  sort  consist,  but  in  the 


PRINCE  METTERNICH.  417 

art  of  telling  lies  with  a  good  grace  ?"  His  activity  in 
the  multifarious  matters  which  are  laid  upon  his  shoul- 
ders is  Inexhaustible  ;  though  very  far  from  being  in- 
sensible to  pleasure,  he  never  allows  it  to  interfere  with 
busmess. 

However  hostile  we  may  be  to  the  general  spirit  of 
Prince  Metternich's  administration,  the  steadiness  with 
which  he  pursues  his  object  is  a  most  valuable  politic  il 
quality.  If  he  be  the  most  implacable  enemy  among 
European  ministers  to  liberal  alterations  in  the  Euro- 
pean governments,  this  arises  partly  from  ambition,  and 
partly  from  what  may  almost  be  called  a  sense  of  duty. 
Enjoying  su(;h  extensive  power,  a  representative  body 
is  the  last  rival  his  ambition  could  endure,  because  it 
would  be  the  most  dangerous.  His  imperial  master 
considers  all  such  innovations  as  rebellious  encroach- 
ments on  his  divine  prerogative,  and  conscientiously  be- 
lieves them  to  be  pregnant  with  misery  to  the  world; 
and  the  minister  of  such  a  prince  holds  himself  bound 
to  rule  on  these  principles.  His  object  is  to  keep  the 
empire  safe  from  this  supposed  infection  ;  he  attacks 
it,  therefore,  wherever  it  appears,  and  is  within  his 
reach.  He  garrisons  Naples  with  Austrian  troops,  and 
sends  the  Carbonari  of  Lombardy  and  Romagna  to 
Laybach  or  the  Spielberg.  Where  they  are  beyond 
the  reach  of  his  artillery  and  judges,  as  in  Spain  and 
Portugal,  then,  besides  the  more  serious  engines  of  po- 
litical intrigue,  he  takes  care  that,  in  Vienna,  at  least, 
they  shall  be  hated  or  despised.  His  dispatches  sup- 
ply him  with  an  Infinity  of  anecdotes,  whether  true  or 
false,  of  all  the  leading  liberals  of  Europe,  from  Sir 
Francis  Burdett  down  to  Benjamin  Constant.  Every 
Wednesday  and  Sunday  evening  he  holds  a  sort  of  po- 
litical conversazione,  and  the  political  sermons  which 
he  delivers  on  these  occasions  to  the  admiring  and  be- 
lieving circle  are  thickly  interlarded  with  such  anec- 
dotes, all  tending  to  make  the  apostles  of  liberalism 
odious  or  ridiculous.  "Probably,  my  Lord,"  said  he 
53 


4lg  VIENNA. 

one  evening  to  an  English  nobleman,  "  you  have  had 
no  opportunity  of  learning  the  spirit  of  the  German 
universities.  Do  you  know,  that,  among  the  gymnas- 
tic exercises  of  a  public  teacher  in  Berhn,  one  consist- 
ed in  throwing  a  dagger  with  so  much  dexterity  as  to 
hit  a  given  point  at  a  considerable  distance.  Yet  this 
man  had  not  for  three  months  given  a  single  lecture  on 
any  subject  on  which  it  was  his  duty  to  have  instructed 
his  pupils." 

Besides  ambition,  the  Premier  is  said  to  have  two 
other  strong  passions,  money  and  beauty  ;  the  former, 
however,  much  less  certain  than  the  latter.  If  the  uni- 
versal voice  of  Vienna  speak  truth,  it  may  be  justly  in- 
scribed on  his  tomb,  "  Lightly  from  fair  to  fair  lie 
flew."  In  a  country,  or,  at  least,  in  a  capital,  where 
female  virtue  is  so  little  prized,  and  the  slavish  spirit 
w^hich  knows  no  good  but  the  favour  of  power  pros- 
pers so  richly  from  the  very  nature  of  the  government, 
the  wealth  and  influence  of  an  absolute  minister,  who 
is,  besides,  a  perfectly  agreeable  and  well-bred  man, 
can  seldom  meet  with  very  stubborn  fair  ones.  To 
indulge  in  such  stories  would  be  the  mere  prating  of 
private  scandal ;  but  they  are  more  justifiable  when 
they  throw  hght  on  the  public  organization  of  a  coun- 
try, and  the  way  of  getting  on  in  it.  During  one  of  those 
congresses  which,  of  late  years,  have  been  so  frequent- 
ly held,  to  establish,  if  possible,  one  uniform  system  of 
despotism  all    over    Europe,  the  beauty   of  the  young 

Countess attracted  the  favourable  regards  of  a 

minister  high  in  authority  at  the  Austrian  Court.  No 
sooner  did  he  discover  the  charms  of  the  wife,  than 
they  opened  his  eyes  to  the  talents  of  the  husband  ;  he 
now  saw,  what  he  was  ashamed  not  to  have  seen  be- 
fore, that  the  public  good  required  that  these  talents 
should  be  transplanted  to  Vienna :  the  husband  was  to 
be  made  an  Aulic  counsellor.  Husband  and  wife  come 
to  the  capital ;  the  husband  visits  among  the  great^ 
dangles  about  at  levees,  and,  while  he  is  thus  engaged. 


PRINCE  METTERNICH.  419 

that  well  known  carriage  standing  daily  at  his  door  tells 
all  the  worid  who,  in  the  mean  time,  is  visiting  his 
wife.  Months  pass  away,  and  the  place  and  salary  are 
not  forthcoming.  The  husband  grows  impatient  and 
urgent,  and  the  lover  must  make  an  effort  to  keep  his 
word.  The  difficuhy  is,  that  the  whole  story  is  by 
this  time  so  well  known,  that  no  veil  can  possibly  be 
thrown  over  the  transaction,  and  it  undoubtedly  has 
reached  the  ears  of  the  Emperor.  The  minister  to 
whose  department  the  affair  belongs  (but,  it  was  said, 
with  great  reluctance)  at  length  proposes  to  the  Em- 
peror the  nomination  of  Count as  an  Aulic  coun- 
sellor, and  enlarges  on  the  polite  attentions  which  he 
had  shown  to  so  many  crowned  heads.  The  Empe- 
ror hears  him  out  patiently,  claps  him  on  the  shoul- 
der, and,  looking  as  archly  as  he  can  look,  plainly  an- 
swers, Ick  weiss  alles  schon^  Herr  Graf,  es  kann  nicht 
gehen,  es  kann  nicht  gehen, — "  Count,  1  know  every  thing 
about  it;  it  won't  do,  it  won't  do;" — and  it  did  not  do, 
and  the  disappointed  couple  returned  to  their  Carnio- 
lian  obscurity.  But  justice  must  be  done  to  the  gene- 
rosity of  the  lover.  The  attack  was  some  time  after- 
wards renewed  in  another  form;  and,  shortly  before  I 

left  Vienna,  Count had  actually  been  appointed  to 

the  government  of  a  populous,  and   beautiful,  and   fer- 
tile region  of  Upper  Austria. 

When  blockheads  can  thus  climb  to  offices  of  power 
and  trust  by  such  means,  what  honest  man  can  hope  to 
win  them  by  the  fair  exercise  of  his  talents  and  integ- 
rity? If  even  clever  men  gain  them  by  such  means, 
what  must  the  state  of  society  be  which  renders  such 
means  necessary  or  practicable,  and,  in  public  opinion, 
scarcely  dishonourable  ?  It  is  thus  that  despotism  pro* 
duces  at  once  moral  and  intellectual  degradation.  Pow- 
er and  influence,  or  the  favour  of  those  who  possess 
power  and  influence,  are  made  the  leading  objects  in 
the  eyes  of  all  the  citizens.  The  means  by  which 
they  are  to  be  acquired,  base  and  immoral  as  they  may 


420  VIENNA. 

be,  become  mere   laudable  and    prudential   sacrificeSa 
Respectability  is  made  to  consist  in  standing  well  with 
those  who  have  power,  or   with  those  who  stand  well 
with  those  who    have    power.     The  Austrian   aristoc- 
racy, though  far  from  being  the    least   respectable   of 
Germany  in  point  of  wealth,  is  the  least  respectable  in 
education,    conduct,    and  manliness    of   spirit.     J  once 
heard  some  Hungarian  officers  express  great  doubts  of 
the  credibility  of  an  English  officer,  when  he  told  them, 
that  it  was  quite  possible  and  customary  to  hold  a  com- 
mission   in    the   British  array  or    navy,    and    yet  vote 
against  ministers  in   Parliament.     They  could  not  con- 
ceive how  such  a  state  of  things  could  exist  in  any  well 
regulated  government.     A  body  of   nobility,   elevated 
above  the  great  mass  of  the  people  by  rank  and  wealth, 
and  having  no  other  public  duties  to  discharge  than  im- 
plicitly to  obey  the  commands,  and  fawningly  court  the 
smiles  of  a  monarch,   must  be    ignorant    and   unprinci- 
pled ;  for  knowledge  would   be  incompatible  with  the 
unthirsking  submission    to   which    they    are    bound  by 
habit,  as  well  as    by   authority;  and    moral    rectitude 
cannot  exist  with  their  systematic  idleness,  which  seeks 
only  pleasures.     The  aristocracy  of  Britain  is  not  only 
unique  in  the  world,  but  is  almost  a  political  and  moral 
phenomenon.     It  is  not    to   be    ascribed,  however,  to 
any  peculiar  temperament  of  feeling,  or  any  peculiarly 
well   balanced  constitution    of    mind.     It  is  principally 
the  result  of  the  form   of  our  government,  which,  ne- 
cessarily recognizing  a  higher  class,  (which  nmst  exist 
in  all  states,  however  it  may  be  disguised  in  name,)  and 
investing  its  members  with  high  privileges, loads  them, 
at  the  same  time,  with  high  public  duties,  which  these 
privileges  only   enable  them    the    more    effi3ctually  to 
perform,  gives  them,  in  the  respect   and  honest  favour 
of  the  people,   a  much  surer    pillar  of  prosperity  than 
the  smiles  of  a  monarch  to   a  worthless  flatterer,  and 
leaves  the  public  eye   to  watch  strictly  how  their  im- 
portant vocation  is  fulfilled.     Shut    the  doors  of  the 


yUBLIC  OPINION.  421 

House  of  Lords  ;  exclude  its  members  from  lieutenan- 
cies of  counties,  grand  juries,  and  commissions  of  the 
peace  ;  leave  them,  in  short,  no  other  space  to  lill  in 
the  public  eye  but  what  maj  be  occupied  by  the  reck- 
lessness of  their  expenditure,  or  the  magnificence  of 
their  equipages,  by  their  rank  in  the  army  and  navy, 
or  by  provincial  employments  which  they  seek  dk  rely 
from  views  of  gain,  and  the  high-minded  and  well-in- 
formed peerage  of  Britain  will  speedily  become  as  ig- 
norant, as  dissolute,  and  as  useless,  as  the  servile  and 
corrupted  aristocracy  of  Vienna. 

Judging  from  what  we  ourselves  would  feel  under 
such  a  state  of  things,  we  would  be  apt  to  infer  that  a 
spirit  of  discontent  must  be  widely  diffused  throughout 
the  empire,  and  that  there  must  be  eager  longings  for 
a  more  equal,  and  manly,  and  liberal  system.  Nothing, 
however,  would  be  farther  from  the  truth  than  such 
an  assertion  ;  the  Austrian  people  is  the  most  anti- 
revolutionary  of  Europe,  and  few  princes  have  so  little 
to  apprehend  as  its  monarch.  Excepting  Italy,  where, 
again,  the  public  feeling  of  dislike  is  directed  against 
Austria  as  being  di  foreign  yoke,  none  of  the  provinces 
which  compose  the  empire  contains  any  general  practi- 
cal wish  for  a  popular  constitution,  or  any  conviction 
that  it  is  theoretically  desirable.  It  has  been  said, 
though  in  a  very  harsh  spirit  of  exaggeration,  that  it  is 
only  by  chance  that  an  Austrian  ever  thinks  at  all ; 
it  is  certain  that  it  is  only  by  chance  that  he  ever 
thinks  on  political  matters.  The  paper  money  of 
Austria  led  to  as  complete,  though  not  so  formal  a 
bankruptcy,  as  the  assignats  of  revolutionary  France. 
The  paper  money  forced  into  circulation  at  its  nommal 
value,  as  equal  to  that  of  the  imperial  florin  m  specie, 
never  maintained  its  ground.  Its  rapid  fluctuations 
brought  ruin  to  thousands;  and  the  government  at  last 
ordained  that  the  paper  currency  should  pass  for  only 
two-filths  of  the  nominal  value  at  which  the  govern- 
ment itself  had  issued  it.     These  Schuldscheine^  these 


49S.  VIENNA. 

government   notes,   are   still   the  general  currency  of 
Vienna  ;  and  while  a  note  for  a  florin  bears  on  the  face 
of  it,   in   German,  Polish,  Hungarian,  and    Bohemian, 
that   it  is  equal  to   a   florin   Convenzions-Munze,  (the 
metallic  currency  of  the  defunct  German  empire,)  its 
real  value  is  only  two-fifths  of  a  florin.     When  a  peo- 
ple has  passed   tranquilly  through  such  a  process,  it  is 
not  likely  to  indulge   in  the  reasonings,  or  to  feel  the 
truths,  of  theoretical    politics.     In   politics,  as  in  most 
other  departments  of  intellectual  exertion,  Austria  is 
the  least  advanced  country  of  Germany  ;  the  subjects 
are    as    contentedly   obedient    as    the   government    is 
jealous  and  arbitrary.     The  priesthood  lends  its  aid  to 
fetter  thought,  and  perpetuate  superstition  ;  the  censor 
prevents  them  from  learning,  and,  if  they  think,  the 
spies  of  the  police  prevent  them  from  speaking ;  and 
the  Austrian  lives  on,  wishing,  indeed,  sometimes,  that 
the  government  \vould  take  less  money  from  him,  but 
never  troubled   with  the  idea  that  he  ought  to  have 
some  influence  himself  on  the  modes  in  which  revenue 
is  raised,  and  the  purposes  to  which  it  is  applied.     It 
seldom    happens  that  the   mere  forms  of  a  despotic 
government  become  the  objects  of  popular  hatred,  so 
long  as  its  actual  administration  is  not  felt  to  be   per- 
sonally oppressive.      With  the  great  body  of  a  people, 
revolutions  are    the   result   of  feeling  rather   than  of 
judgment ;  they  do  not  so   much  seek   to  gain  what 
political  reasoning  tells  them  is  right,  as  to  escape  from 
what   they   feel   to   be    individual   privations.      "That 
which  is  best  administered  is  best,"  however  faulty  as 
a   principle  in   the  theory  of  government — because   it 
forgets  the  question,  by  what  forms  that  best  adminis- 
tration is  most  likely  to  be  secured — is   perfectly  true 
in  regard  to  the  opinions  of  the  great  mass  of  a  nation  ; 
with    them    it    always    becomes  at    last   a   question  of 
personal  enjoyment  or  insult,  except  where  the  habitual 
exercise  of  pjolitifal    rights  has   linked   them   to  their 
atfections  as  a  personal   possession.     The  Saxons,  who 


PUBLIC  OPINION.  429 

are  among  the  most  enliglitened  of  Germans,  submit 
to  an  arbitrary  government  as  peaceably  as  tiie  Aus- 
trlans,  whom  they  reckon  the  most  stohd.  So  long  as 
the  subjects  of  the  Emperor  Francis  have  enough  to 
cat  and  di'ink,  his  throne  is  the  most  secure  in  Europe  ; 
so  soon  as  the  subjects  of  George  IV.  are  starving,  no 
constitution  is  exposed  to  greater  danger  from  popular 
coaimotion  than  that  of  Eno^land.  Home  mi^ht  never 
have  discovered  the  charms  of  a  republic,  had  not 
Tarquin'sson  been  inflamed  by  the  beauty  of  Lucretia; 
and  it  was  liunger  and  imprisonment  that  drove  the 
Roman  populace  to  the  Sacred  Mount.  The  cantons 
witich  founded  the  liberty  of  Switzerland  might  have 
remained  till  this  day  appendages  of  the  house  of 
flapsburgli,  had  not  imperial  oificers  wounded  the 
pride  of  alpine  shepherds,  and  outraged  the  modesty 
of  alpine  dames.  Liberty,  like  virtue,  may  be  its  own 
reward  ;  but  how  difficult  is  it  to  induce  the  bulk  of 
mankind  to  love  the  one  or  the  other*  only  for  iis  own 
sake  ! 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

STYRIA. — CARNIOLA. 

Wo  der  Steirer  Risen  bricht. 


Fourteen  miles  to  the  south  of  Vienna,  the  little 
town  of  B  'den,  created  and  supported  by  the  celebri- 
ty of  its  mineral  waters,  lies  amid  vineyards,  on  the 
footstool  of  the  Styrian  Alps,  overflowing,  in  summer 
and  autumn,  with  idleness  and  disease  from  the  capital. 
Some  persons  of  the  higher  ranks  have  houses  of  their 
own,  in  which  they  spend  a  couple  of  months,  not  lor 
the  purposes  of  health,  but  to  enjoy  the  delicious  scene- 


424  BADEN. 

rj  in  tlie  neighbourhood.  Excepting,  however,  wheiQ 
the  Imperial  Family  makes  Baden  its  summer  resi- 
dence, fashionable  people  confine  their  visits  to  driv- 
ing down  on  Saturday  afternoon,  going  to  the  ball  on 
Sunday  evening,  and  returning  to  Vienna  on  Mondaj 
morning. 

The  warm  springs,  loaded  with  sulphur,  and  strong- 
ly impregnated  with  carbonic  acid  gas,  issue  from  be- 
neath a  low  eminence  of  limestone,  which  a  few  years" 
ago  was  only  bare  rock,  but  is  now  clothed  with  artifi- 
cial groves,  and  hewn  out  into  romantic  walks.  Some 
of  the  sources  belong  to  the  town,  others  are  the  pro- 
perty of  private  individuals.  In  certain  cutaneous  dis- 
eases, the  waters  are  specific  ;  but  persons  who  labour 
under  such  ailments  are  very  properly  compelled  to 
bathe  by  themselves.  The  rest  of  the  crowd,  consist- 
ing principally  of  cripples  from  swellings,  or  from  con- 
tractions of  the  limbs,  rheumatic  and  gouty  patients, 
and  not  a  few  who,  though  in  perfect  health,  take  a 
strange  pleasure  in  being  in  such  a  crowd,  use  the  bath 
together,  males  and  females  mixed  promiscuously,  and 
sit,  or  move  slowly  about,  for  an  hour  or  two,  up  to 
the  neck  in  the  steaming  water.  The  ladies  enter 
and  depart  by  one  side,  and  the  gentlemen  by  another; 
but  in  the  bath  itself  there  is  no  separation  ;  nay,  po- 
liteness re(juires,  that  a  gentleman,  when  he  sees  a  la- 
dy moving,  or  attempting  to  move,  alone,  shall  offer 
himself  as  her  support  during  the  aquatic  promenade. 
There  is  no  silence  or  dulness  ;  every  thing  is  talk  and 
joke.  There  is  a  gallery  above,  for  the  convenience 
of  those  "who  choose  to  be  only  spectators  of  the  mot- 
ley crowd,  but  it  is  impossible  to  hold  out  long  against 
the  heat.  The  vapours,  which  are  scarcely  felt  when 
the  whole  body  is  immersed  in  the  water,  are  intoler- 
able when  the  body  is  out  of  it,  and  the  sulphurous 
fumes  immediately  attack  the  metallic  parts  of  the 
dress.  A  very  fair  and  fashionable  lady  entered  the 
bath  one  morning.     The  gentleman  who  expected  her 


ST.  HELENA.  425 

had  scarcely  taken  Iicr  hand  to  lead  her  round,  when 
her  face  and  neck  were  observed  to  grow  black  and 
livid.  A  cry  was  raised  that  the  lady  was  suffocating; 
some  of  her  own  sex  immediately  carried  her  out  to 
the  dressing  room,  and  speedily  returned  with  a  mali- 
cious triumph.  The  lady  had  painted,  and  the  sulphur 
had  unmasked  her.  Yet,  though  there  is  much  idle- 
ness and  listlessness  in  Baden,  there  is  much  less  disso- 
luteness than  in  most  German  watering-places  of  equal 
celebrity.  The  reason  is,  the  vicinity  of  Vienna.  Ac- 
quaintances may  be  made  in  Baden,  but  the  prosecu- 
tion of  them  is  reserved  to  be  the  occupation  of  the 
following  winter  in  the  capital. 

Every  evening,  both  the  sick  and  the  healthy  re- 
pair to  the  lovely  valley  of  St.  Helena,  at  whose  mouth 
Baden  is  situated.  It  is  a  dell,  rather  than  a  valley. 
At  its  entrance,  there  is  scarcely  room  for  more  than 
the  ample  mountain  stream  which  waters  and  enlivens 
it  throughout  its  whole  extent.  The  lofty  rocks  which, 
on  each  side,  guard  its  moutli,  still  bear  the  sombre 
ruins  of  tw^o  ancient  fortresses  frowning  at  each  other 
across  the  vallev,  like  warders  posted  on  hostile  tow- 
ers. Neither  horse  nor  carriage  can  possibly  enter, 
and  the  hisfhest  in  the  land  must  minixle  on  foot  with 
the  lowest.  When  the  Imperial  family  is  in  Baden, 
this  scanty  path,  and  the  little  glades  .  into  which  it 
sometimes  opens  out,  present  samples  of  all  the  nations 
of  the  empire,  from  Transylvania  to  Milan,  and  of  all 
the  various  classes  of  its  society.  The  emperor  him- 
self, the  most  plainly  dressed  man  in  the  valley,  was 
soberly  plodding  along,  with  the  empress  on  his  arm, 
and  his  eldest  son,  the  Crown  Prince,  stalking  by  his 
side.  The  empress  had  burdened  his  majesty  with 
her  parasol,  and  his  majesty  was  very  irreverently  con- 
verting it  into  a  staff,  and  polluted  it  in  various  little 
puddles  which  some  heavy  rain  in  the  forenoon  had 
formed  here  and  there  in  the  grass.  The  empress 
seemed  to  lose  patience,  snatched  it  from  him,  and 
54 


426  ST.  HELENA. 

shook  it  at  him,  as  if  in  a  good-natured  threat  to  casti- 
gate her  imperial  husband,  and  jou  might  hear  dis- 
tinctly from  the  passing  vulgar  the  kindly  exclamation, 
Die  guten  Leute  !  To  the  left,  a  groupe  of  homely  citi- 
zens were  enjoying  their  coiifee,  (for,  of  course,  there 
are  colfee-tents,)  and,  close  bye,  the  Archduchess 
Charles  was  resting  herself  on  a  rude  bench  ;  at  her 
feet,  young  Napoleon,  with  much  more  of  the  Austrian 
family,  than  of  his  father,  in  his  countenance,  was  tum- 
bling about  in  the  grass  with  his  little  cousins.^  As 
she  returned  the  obeisance  of  Prince  Metternich,  who 
was  strolling  past  with  the  French  ambassador,  one  of 
the  girls  cried,  "  There's  papa,"  and  the  Archduke 
himself,  his  coat  pulled  off,  and  thrown  over  his  shoul- 
der, on  account  of  the  heat,  came  scrambling  down  the 
rocks  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river,  with  one  of  his 
boys  on  each  hand,  rhere  is  a  great  deal  of  affec- 
tionate plainness  in  the  way  in  which  the  members  of 
the  Imperial  Family  move  about  among  their  subjects, 
and  it  has  much  more  strength  in  knitting  them  toge- 
ther, than  political  theories  will  readily  have  in  sepa- 
rating them. 

From  the  head  of  the  valley  of  St.  Helena,  a  ro- 
mantic path  runs  through  the  woods,  and  joins  the 
great  road  from  Vienna  to  the  mountainous  district  of 
Upper  Styria  at  the  Cistercian  monastery  of  Holyrood, 
(^Heiligen-Kreutz^)  about  thirty  miles  from  the  Styrian 
frontier.  The  monastery  is  an  ancient  and  comfortable 
building,  and  the  monks  neither  display  in  their  per- 
sons any  marks  of  mortifying  the  flesh,  nor,  in  their 
conversation,  any  predilection  for  serious  and  holy- 
topics.  They  are  ruddy,  jocular,  well  conditioned 
people,  and,  though  there  were  ladies  in  the  party,  the 
monks  cheerfully  admitted  them   to  the   penetralia  of 

*  The  Duke  of  Reichstadt,  it  is  said,  is  to  be  imprisoned  in  the 
church  ;  a  bigot,  therefore,  has  been  given  him  as  his  governor, 
the  same  gentleman  who,  as  already  mentioned,  acted  so  despoti- 
cally with  the  revievr  of  Pjrker's  Tunisiad. 


HEILIGEN-KREUTZ.  427 

their  cells.  One  part  of  monastic  discipline  has  been 
entirely  reversed.  The  door  of  every  cell  is  pierced 
with  a  small  circular  hole,  covered  by  a  slidino  pannel. 
The  pannel  used  to  be  on  the  outside,  and  the  intention 
of  the  whole  arranojement  was,  to  enable  the  Abbot  to 
peep  into  the  cells  whenever  he  chose.  But  the 
monks  have  got  the  system  changed,  and  tlie  sliding 
pannel  is  now  on  the  inside.  The  inmates  are  not  all 
entirely  idle,  for  the  monastery  is  a  sort  of  theological 
seminary  ;  about  foity  young  men,  who  have  passed 
through  the  usual  preparatory  courses  in  a  university 
or  Lyceum,  are  supported,  and  instructed  in  divinity, 
and  are  then  transferred,  as  occasion  allows,  to  fatten 
on  the  banquets  of  the  wealthy  monasteries  of  Lilien- 
feld  and  Kloster-Neuburg.  Yet  the  pious  brethr-en 
must  have  a  great  deal  of  unoccupied  time  on  tlicir 
hands  ;  and,  therefore,  it  is  disgraceful  to  them  that 
their  garden  is  in  such  utter  disorder.  It  was,  in  every 
respect,  the  garden  of  the  sluggard  ;  straggling  roses 
were  rising  among  luxuriant  nettles.  One  of  the  monks 
told  me,  that,  during  the  war,  their  treasury  and  altars 
had  been  despoiled  of  upwards  of  thirty  tor)s  of  silver, 
to  meet  the  necessities  of  the  state;  but,  till  they  be- 
come industrious  themselves,  they  do  not  deserve  to 
have  their  plundered  r'iches  restoi-ed. 

From  this  point,  the  traveller  who  is  moving  west- 
ward to  the  Styrian  frontier  is  always  getting  deeper 
into  the  vallies  of  that  mountarnous  ridge  which  runs 
up  through  the  territory  of  Salzburg,  and  then  joins 
the  Alps  of  the  Tyrol.  The  road  is  a  i^ood  one,  for 
it  is  the  line  by  which  the  salt  and  iron  of  Upper  Sty- 
ria  are  conveyed  to  Vienna.  There  are  as  yeA  no 
cloud-capped  mountains,  or  terrific  precipices,  but  the 
whole  face  of  the  country  is  picturesque.  It  is  a  suc- 
cession of  hollows,  rather  than  oi'  vallies,  inclosed  by 
eminences  which,  though  not  lofty,  ar-e  abrupt  and 
varied  in  their  forms,  and  uniformly  clothed  with  their 
original    forests.     There    is    no    want  of  population; 


426  STYRIA. 

small  market  towns  are  numerous,  and,  to  supply  their 
wants,  the  bottom  of  these  romantic  dells  has  been  in- 
dustriously cultivated.  It  was  only  the  beginning  of^ 
August,  yet  the  crops  were  all  cut  down,  and  spread 
out  on  the  field  to  dry,  before  being  made  up  into 
stacks.  Much 'of  the  land  belongs  to  abbeys,  which 
are  thickly  strewed,  and  the  princely  monastery  of 
JLilienfeld,  the  wealthiest  abode,  in  Austria,  of  the  fol- 
lowers of  St.  Bernard,  is  the  most  prosperous,  and  the 
most  ancient  of  them  all.  The  series  of  the  portraits 
of  its  abbots  commences  in  the  year  1206,  and  comes 
down  to  18  i5  In  an  uninterrupted  succession,  excepting 
that  there  is  a  gap  fro?n  1786  to  1790,  the  period  dur- 
ing which  Josei.h  disturbed  the  repose  of  all  the  monks 
in  his  empire.  The  inscription  on  the  portrait  of  Ab- 
bot Ignatius,  elected  in  1790,  lecords  the  restoration 
of  the  abbey  by  the  grace  of  Leopold  II.  Numerous 
as  these  abbeys  are,  and  great  as  the  extent  of  their 
territorial  possessions  frequently  is,  it  is  wrong  to  accuse 
the  princes,  or  the  pious  individuals  who  endowed 
them,  of  having  been  imprudently  liberal  to  the 
church.  Thousands  of  acres  were  given ;  but  they 
were  acres  of  wood  and  water,  utterly  unproductive  to 
the  public,  and  which  would  probably  have  remained 
for  centuries  in  the  same  wild  state,  if  they  had  been 
the  property  of  a  quarrelsome  baron,  instead  of  be- 
longing to  the  peaceful  sons  of  the  church.  The 
monks,  though  idle  themselves,  were  not  encouragers 
of  idleness  in  their  subjects.  Their  leisure  allowed 
them  to  instruct,  and  their  love  of  gain  led  them  to 
aid  their  vassals  in  agricultural  science,  rude  as  it  was, 
while,  at  the*  same  time,  the  sacred  character  which 
they  enjoyed  placed  their  peasantry  beyond  the  reach 
of  the  oppressions  practised  by  feudal  nobles.  It  has 
long  been  a  current  proverb  in  Germany,  Man  lebt  gut 
unter  dem  Krummstdt^^t  is  true  that  one  is  apt  to 
feel  provoked  when^^^s  told  that  these  fruitful  val- 
fies,  and  the  pasture  hills  which  rise  along  their  sides^ 


PILGRIMS.  429 

belong  to  a  congrogatiorf  of  idle  monks;  but  monks 
were  the  very  men  who  made  the  vallles  fruitful  and 
4he  hills  useful.  They  received  them  covered  with 
trees  and  rocks — no  very  liberal  boon — and  il  was 
they  who  planted  them  with  corn,  and  stored  them 
with  sheep.  The  flourishirjg  monastery  ol  Lilicnfeld 
still  maintains  a  symbol  of  its  ancient  hospitality. 
The  members  of  the  long  procession  of  pilgrims  which 
annually  walks  from  Vienna  to  Mariazell,  are  refresh- 
ed within  its  walls  with  a  long  benediction,  and  a  small 
plate  of  thin  soup. 

The  whole  road,  as  far  as  Mariazell,  the  first  Sty- 
rian  town,  and  the  lioly  abode  of  an  ugly  picture  of 
the  Virgin,  is  much  more  thickly  strewed  with  em- 
blems of  believing  piety,  and  conveniences  for  devout 
worshippers,  than  with  the  marks  of  civic  industry  and 
comfort, — for  it  is  the  line  of  the  great  pilgrimage 
from  Vienna.  Every  valley  which  the  pilgrims  have 
to  traverse  is  crowded  with  Saints  and  Virgins,  and 
every  hill  across  which  they  toil  is  surmounted  with  a 
chapel  or  a  Saviour.  But  even  pilgrims  cannot  dis^ 
pense  with  temporal  restoratives,  and  brandy- booths 
refresh  the  votaries  of  the  iVlndonna  as  frrquently  as 
her  own  image.  The  Annaberg,  or  Mountain  ol"  St. 
Anne,  is  at  once  the  steepest  ascent  which  they  have 
to  climb,  and  the  most  romantic  spot  in  this  part  of 
Styria.  The  rocks  press  together  so  closely,  and  the 
wood  entangles  itself  so  thickly  round  the  mountain 
path,  that,  at  every  turn,  it  seems  impossible  to 
emerge  from  the  dell  in  which  you  have  been  caught; 
but,  on  reaching  the  apparently  extreme  point  of  your 
progress,  the  road  turns  sharply  round  sOme  angle  of 
the  mountain,  and  leads  you,  amid  sparkling  streams 
and  overhanging  rocks,  into  another  dell  of  the  same 
sort,  till  the  summit  of  the  hill  itself  appears,  crowned 
with  its  ancient  cloister.  The  pilgrims  always  ascend 
this  eminence  chaunting  hymns ;  the  young  women 
allow  their  hair  to  hang  down  loose  over  their  shoul- 


4S0  STYRIA. 

ders,  dropping,  not  with  myrrh,  but  with  perspiration; 
and  the  more  laboriously  pious  add  to  the  sum  of  their 
good  works,  by  dragging  after  them  a  cumbersome 
cross.  At  the  foot  of  tlie  hill  there  is  a  chapel  in 
which  they  may  pray,  and,  opposite  to  it,  a  brandy- 
shop  to  quicken  the  body.  Their  devotions  are  re- 
newed in  another  chapel  on  the  summit,  but  the  spring 
which  it  contains  supplies  only  water.  It  is  the  most 
profanely  grotesque  of  all  fountains.  It  is  formed 
by  a  rude  image  of  the  dying  Messiah  lying  on 
the  lap  of  his  mother;  an  iron  pipe  is  inserted  into 
the  wound  in  his  side,  and  the  pure  stream  issues 
from  it. 

The  nearer  you  approach  to  the  holy  city  itself,  the 
greater  is  the  number  of  drinking  booths  and  beggars; 
for  the  pilgrimage  is  often  made  a  pretext  for  mendi- 
city, and  people  who  would  not  stoop  to  ask  alms  on 
other  occasions,  reckon  it  no  disgrace  to  seek  the  aid 
of  charity  in  observing  the  rites  of  their  superstition. 
The  first  object  that  met  the  eye  on  passing  the  boun- 
dary from  Austria  into  Styria,  was  a  board,  announcing 
an  express  prohibition  against  beg2^ing ;  and  right  under 
it  sat  an  old  woman  begging.  When  asked  if  she  did 
not  see  what  was  above  her,  she  answered,  "Yes; 
but,  dear  Sir,  I  can't  read."  It  is  still  more  melan- 
choly that  poor  and  industrious  people  should  waste 
their  scanty  means  in  travelling  from  remote  corners  of 
the  empire  to  pay  this  tribute  to  superstition.  While 
I  was  resting  at  the  fountain,  on  the  summit  of  the 
Josephiberg^  a  middle-aged  man,  accompanied  by  a 
woman  and  a  youth,  ascended  the  hill  from  the  oppo- 
site side ;  they  were  father,  mother,  and  son.  The 
father  was  blind  ;  as  he  paced  ^wly  along,  s^uided  bj 
his  wife,  both  sinking  under  the  burden  of  ill  health 
and  fatigue,  he  told  the  beads  of  a  rosnry  which  hung 
from  his  neck,  while  she  repeated  the  Aves  and  Pater- 
nosters. The  son  was  a  few  steps  before  them,  and 
carried  on  his  shoulders  the  bundle  which  contained" 


PILGRIMS.  431 

their  little  stock  of  travelling  conveniences.  On  reach- 
ing the  summit,  they  seated  themselves  by  tlie  sjjimg; 
thuy  spoke  Bohemian;  but  an  accidental  circumstance 
brought  out,  that  German  was  nearly  as  much  their 
native  language.  Ti  e  latlscr  was  a  lliien-weaver, from 
the  northern  exiremity  of  Bohemia.  Three  years 
before,  he  ijad  lost  \\\6  eye-sight  through  disease;  he 
had  visited  in  vain  ail  tlie  numerous  shrines  of  Bohe- 
mia, and  tlie  southern  corners  of  Silesia  ;  as  a  last  hope, 
he  had 'repaired  to  the  wonder-working  .Virgin  of 
Mariazell,  had  performed  his  devotions  during  three 
days,  and  was  now  on  his  return  to  his  distant  home. 
What  could  be  saved  from  the  scanty  earnings  of  his 
v^^ife,  the  son  who  accompanied  them,  and  a  grown  up 
daughter,  who  had  been  left  at  home  with  the  younger 
children,  had  been  hoarded  up  during  nearly  a  year,  to 
enable  the  husband  and  father  to  undertake  this  long 
and  dreary  pilgrimage,  as  the  last  earthly  mean  of  re- 
covering his  lost  sight.  Bread  and  water  had  been  their 
sole  sustenance,  except  that,  during  the  three  days  spent 
in  Mariazell  itself,  they  had  indulged  in  boiled  vegeta- 
bles, and  such  soup  as  is  there  to  be  had,  "  not  to  look 
poorer  than  we  are,"  said  the  good  woman  ;  "  for," 
added  she,  as  if  to  give  a  high  idea  of  the  comforts 
which  they  had  enjoyed  in  their  Bohemian  valley,  "  at 
home,  while  Johann  could  work,  we  never  had  less." 
Their  piety  had  as  yet  brought  no  reward  ;  the  hope 
of  an  immediate  miracle  had  passed  away  ;  but  the 
unfortunate. man  seemed  to  be  in  some  measure  con- 
soled under  his  grievous  privation  by  having  used  all 
the  means  pointed  out  by  his  church,  and  he  spoke  of 
this  toilsome,  ^nd,  to  his  squalid  family,  expensive  jour- 
ney, as  a  duty  which  he  owed  to  his  religion  no  less 
than  lo  himself.  He  was  happy  in  not  being  able  to 
observe  the  tears  which  started  into  the  eyes  of  his 
wife  as  he  expressed  his  doubts  that  he  had  not  even 
yet  found  acceptance  before  the  Virgin  ;  but  the  boy- 
observed  them,  glanced  his  eye  from  the  one  to  the 


432  STYRIA. 

other,  pulled  the  straps  of  his  little  knapsack  tighter 
round  his  shoulders,  and  put  his  parents  in  mind  that 
they  must  proceed  on  their  journey.  They  all  took  a 
parting  draught  from  the  pure  spring;  the  blind  father 
again  seized  his  rosary,  and,  as  tliey  descended  the 
hill,  the  wife  again  began  the  low  monotonous  chaunt. 
It  is  melancholy  that  a  government,  instead  of  endea- 
vouring to  wean  its  people  from  extravagances  which 
render  poverty  doubly  oppressive,  should  encourage 
among  those  of  its  subjects,  whose  lot  is  penury  and 
ignorance,  superstitions  that  interfere  so  substantially 
with  the  comforts  they  might  otherwise  enjoy.  If 
there  be  anv  member  of  the  Catholic  church  who  will 
really  maintain,  that  it  is  better  for  the  community 
that  the  hard-earned  gains  of  these  poor  people  should 
be  consumed  in  a  distant  pilgrimage,  which,  moreover, 
is  often  accompanied  with  much  immorality,  than  that 
they  should  be  expended  in  adding  to  their  domestic 
comforts,  he  is  as  far  beyond  the  reach  of  argument, 
as  the  observances  of  his  church  are,  in  this  instance, 
beyond  the  reach  of  respect. 

Manazell  would  not  be  worth  visiting,  were  it  not 
for  the  celebrity  which  it  has  acquired  as  a  place  of 
pilgrimage,  and  the  residence  of  a  lioly  influence,  which, 
till  this  day,  is  working  more  frequent,  and  astonishing, 
and  undeniable  miracles,  than  even  Prince  Hohenlohe. 
The  town  is  small  and  mean  looking ;  it  consists,  in 
fact,  principally  of  inns  and  alehouses,  to  accommodate 
the  perpetual  influx  of  visitors,  which  never  ceases,  all 
the  year  round,  except  when  snow  has  rendered  the 
mountains  impassable.  The  immense  size  of  the  beds 
in  these  hostelries  shows  at  once  to  how  many  incon- 
veniences the  pious  are  willing  to  submit.  The  pil- 
grims, however,  who  can  pretend  to  the  luxury  of  a 
bed,  are  few  in  number ;  above  all,  during  the  time 
that  the  annual  procession  from  Vienna  is  on  the  spot, 
it  is  not  possible  that  the  greater  part  of  the  crowd 
can  be  able  to  find  lodgings ;  and,  though  there  were 


MARIAZELL.  433 

accommodation,  no  small  portion  of  them  are  too  poor 
to  pay  lor  it.  These, fron)  necessity,  and  aiany  others 
from  less  jusl!ria[)ie  motives,  spend  the  niglkt  in  the 
neighbouring  woods  ;  both  sexes  are  intermingled  ;  and, 
till  morning  dawns,  they  continue  drinking,  and  singing 
songs,  which  are  any  thing  but  hymns  of  devotion. 
Fighting  used  to  be  the  ordei*  of  the  night,  so  long  as 
the  procession  from  Gratz  (which,  likewise,  is  always 
a  numerous  one)  performed  its  pilgrimage  at  the  same 
time  with  that  from  Vienna.  The  women  of  Gratz 
are  celebrated  for  their  beauty  all  over  the  empire,  and 
the  young  females  of  Vienna  have  their  full  share  of 
personal  attractions.  When  the  two  companies  met 
m  Mariazell,  the  men  were  uniformly  engaged,  at  last, 
in  determining  by  blows  the  charms  of  their  respective 
fair  ones,  or  deciding  who  was  best  entitled  to  enjoy 
their  smiles.  It  was  found  necessary  to  put  a  stop  to 
this  public  scandal,  by  ordering  the  pilgrimages  to, 
take  place  at  different  times. 

The  church,  which  is  the  centre  of  all  this  devotion 
and  irregularity,  has  n^>thing  to  recommend  it  except 
its  antiquity,  and  the  picture  to  which  it  owes  its  fame. 
The  latter  is  just  one  of  those  modern  Greek  paintings 
which  are  so  common  in  Italy,  and  wiiich  are  there 
ascribed,  by  the  believing  multitude,  to  the  pencil  of 
the  apostle  Luke.  The  maiden-motlier  holds  the  holy 
infant  in  her  arms,  but  both  are  so  covered  with  silver, 
that  only  the  heads  are  allowed  to  be  seen.  An  irrup- 
tion of  the  Tartars  had  driven  a  Styrian  priest  to  save 
himself  by  flight,  and  he  carried  along  with  him  this 
Madonna,  the  only  ornament  of  his  rude  church.  As 
he  wandered  for  safety  through  this  mountainous  re- 
gion, a  light  suddenly  burst  from  heaven,  and  the 
Madonna  herself,  descendinsf  on  the  clouds  with  her 
mfant  son,  in  the  very  same  attitude  in  which  she  was 
represented  in  the  picture,  ordered  him  to  hang  it  up 
on  a  tree  which  she  pointed  out,  and  sent  him  forth 
to  proclaim  to  the  world,  that,  through  it,  her  ear 
bb 


434  STYRIA. 

would  ever  be  open.  On  the  spot  where  the  tree 
stood,  the  church  was  afterwards  built  ;  as  tlie  fame  of 
the  miracles  soon  spread  over  all  Germany,  and  as  they 
were  frequently  performed  in  behalf  of  princes,  the 
altars  of  Mariazeil  have  been  crowded  for  more  than 
eight  hundred  years,  and  its  treasury  continued  to 
overflow  with  gold,  and  silver,  and  precious  stones,  till 
Joseph  removed  part  of  its  riches  into  the  imperial 
exchequer.  Maria  Theresa  had  hung  up  as  a  votive 
offering  figures  in  silver  of  herself  and  all  her  family  ; 
the  unnatural  son  melted  down  his  mother,  and  brothers, 
and  sisters,  and  carried  his  profanity  so  far  as  to  sub- 
ject to  a  similar  process  the  four  angels,  of  the  same 
costly  metal,  who  guarded  the  high  altar.  The  trea- 
sury of  Mariazeil  used  to  be  reckoned  the  richest  in 
Europe,  after  that  of  Loretto,  and,  as  in  the  latter, 
the  renewed  devotion  of  the  faithful  is  again  restoring 
its  lost  splendour. 

In  the  centre  of  the  gloomy  church  stands  a  small 
and  dark  chapel,  dimly  lighted  up  by  a  single  lamp, 
whose  ray  is  elipsed  by  the  glare  of  precious  stones 
and  metals  that  are  profusely  scattered  within.  A  sil- 
ver railing  guards  the  entrance,  and  around  this  costly 
fence  kneel  the  crowded  worshippers,  supplicating 
their  various  boons  from  the  holy  picture  within,  which 
they  can  scarcely  see.  Behind  the  chapel  rises  an  in- 
sulated pillar,  surmounted  by  a  stone  image  of  the  Vir- 
gin. It  was  surrounded  by  a  double  circle  of  pilgrims. 
The  inner  circle  consisted  of  females  ;  they  were  all 
on  their  knees,  in  silent  adoration.  The  outer  circle 
contained  only  men  ;  they  had  not  so  much  devotion 
either  in  their  looks  or  attitude,  and  stood  bye,  care- 
lessly leaning  on  their  staffs.  The  sun  was  just  going 
down  behind  the  bare  precipices  of  the  neighbouring 
mountains,  ana  the  company  was  thus  arranged  to 
await  the  signal  for  chauntino-  the  Ave  Maria.  The 
aisle  in  which  they  were  assembled  was  cold  and  som- 
bre ;  the  weak  rays  of  light,  passing  through  the  stain- 


MARIAZELL.  435 

ed  fiflass  of  a  large  Gothic  window,  covered  them  with 
a  hundred  soft  aiivl  varied  tint?,  and  not  a  whisper  dis- 
turbed tiie  solemn  silence,  except  the  indistinct  mur- 
mur of  prayer  from  the  holy  chapel.  At  lenjjth  the 
sun  disappeared,  and  the  bell  gave  the  signal  for  the 
evening  service.  The  young  women  in  the  inner  part 
of  the  circle  immediately  began  to  move  slowly  round 
the  pillar  on  their  knees,  singing,  with  voices  in  which 
there  was  much  natural  harmony,  a  hymn  to  the  Vir- 
gin, nearly  in  the  following  strain,  while  the  men  stood 
motionless,  taking  up  the  burden  at  the  end  of  every 
stanza,  and  bending  to  the  earth  before  the  sacred 
imaoe. 

Fading,  still  fading^,  the  last  beam  is  shining  ; 
Ave  Maria  !  day  is  declining. 
Safety  and  innocence  iiy  with  the  light, 
Temptation  and  danger  walk  forth  with  the  night; 
From  the  fail  of  the  shade,  till  the  matin  shall  chime, 
Shield  us  from  danger,  and  save  us  from  crime. 
Ave  Maria  !  audi  nos. 

Ave  Maria  !  hear  when  we  call, 
Mother  of  Him  who  is  brother  of  all : 
Feeble  and  failing,  we  trust  in  thy  might ; 
In  doubting  and  darkness,  thy  love  be  our  light  ; 
Let  us  sleep  on  thy  breast  while  the  night  taper  burns, 
And  wake  in  thine  arms  when  the  morning  returns. 
Ave  Maria  !  audi  nos. 

From  Mariazell,  a  very  good  road,  considering  the 
alpine  nature  of  the  country,  leads  southw'ard  through 
the  mountains,  passing  the  romantic  little  towm  of  See- 
wiesen,  and,  at  Bruck  on  the  Mur,  rejoins  the  great 
line  of  communication  between  Vienna  and  Trieste. 
The  Mur  is  a  large  and  rapid  stream,  but,  unfortunate- 
ly, the  inequalities  in  its  channel  render  it  unservicea- 
ble for  navigation.  It  is  used  only  to  (loat  down  wood 
from  Upper  Styrla.  The  trees  are  formed  into  a  raft, 
and,  besides  the  men  entrusted  with  its  management, 
some  venturous  passengers  occasionally  trust  themselves 


436  STYRIA. 

on  this  bulky,  and  yet  frail  bark,  to  the  rapids  of  the 
river.  The  voyage  has  often  terminated  fatally,  by 
the  raft,  at  some  sharp  turn  of  the  river,  being  dashed 
to  pieces  against  the  rocks  on  the  opposite  side.  One 
dreaded  spot  of  this  kind  occurs  in  the  river  near  Leo- 
ben,  about  nine  miles  above  Bruck,  and  yet  the  difficul- 
ty might  be  removed  at  a  trifling  expense.  The  ri- 
ver, which  is  flowing  east,  suddenly  turns  to  the  north, 
and  runs  in  this  direction  a  few  hundred  yards,  till  an 
opposing  precipice,  from  whose  face  its  waters  boil 
back  in  furious  agitation,  forces  it  again  to  run  east ; 
then  it  flows  south,  and  finally  continues  its  easterly 
course,  thus  forming,  by  these  windings  of  its  channel, 
nearly  three  sides  of  a  square.  It  is  at  the  turn,  where 
its  northerly  course  is  suddenly  checked  by  impending 
rocks,  that  the  most  fatal  accidents  on  the  Mur  have 
happened.  A  few  years  ago,  forty  passengers  went  to 
the  bottom  in  this  dangerous  passage,  and  the  marin- 
ers, so  soon  as  they  approach  it,  have  recourse  to  Pa- 
ternosters, and  the  favour  of  the  Virgin  of  Mariazell. 
Now,  the  space  of  ground  included  between  the  first 
winding  of  the  river  in  which  it  flows  north,  and  the 
last  in  which  returns  just  as  far  south,  did  not  seem  to 
me  to  exceed  half  a  mile  ;  and  it  is  a  low,  level  plain. 
Neither  much  labour  nor  expense  would  be  required 
to  carry  a  canal  through  it  from  the  upper  to  the  low- 
er part  of  the  river,  and  the  navigation,  avoiding  these 
perilous  rapids,  would  proceed  in  a  straight  line. 

Bruck,  like  all  the  other  little  towns  in  Upper  Sty- 
ria,  is  dull  and  inactive,  for  the  manufactures  of  this 
part  of  the  province  are  farther  to  the  north,  round 
the  iron  mines  of  Eisenerz,  which  are  supposed  to  have 
furnished  the  Romans  with  the  JYoricns  chalybs,  and 
the  copper  mines  of  Kahlwang.  The  population,  both 
in  the  towns  and  the  country,  is  devoutly  Catholic,  and 
far  more  regular  in  their  observances  than  the  Austri- 
ans.  A  few  small  confifreo^ations  of  Protestants  still 
linger  in   the  recesses  of  the  mountains.     Styria  took 


BRUCK.  4S7 

up  the  cause  of"  the  Reformation  early  and  successful- 
ly ;  but  Ferdinand  II.,  who  had  ah'eady  hghted  up  the 
war  which  brought  Gustavus  Adolphus  in  triumph  from 
the  Bakic  to  the  Danube,  brought  back  the  province 
to  the  true  faith  with  fire  and  sword.  A  few  strag- 
ghng  Protestants,  escaping  observation  by  the  remote- 
ness of  their  alpine  abodes,  perpetuated  their  doctrines 
during  a  century  and  a  half,  without  pastors,  or  church- 
es, or  public  worship,  handing  down  their  religion  as 
a  tradition  from  o^eneration  to  generation.  Maria  The- 
resa,  herself  rescued  from  destruction  by  a  Protestant 
monarch,  sent  forth  missionaries  to  hunt  out  the  stray 
sheep,  and  bring  them  back  to  the  fold  by  argument 
and  remonstrance.  This  was  to  be  tolerated  ;  but  it 
is  scarcely  to  be  credited,  that  those  who  should  ob- 
stinately adhere  to  their  faith  were  doomed  to  exile. 
If  they  refused  to  enter  the  imperial  road  to  salvation, 
they  were  to  be  shown  the  road  to  Transylvania,  and 
actually  planted  as  colonists  by  the  side  of  their  bro- 
ther heretics,  the  Turks.  Joseph  II.  mounted  the 
throne,  and  this  stupid  and  barbarous  policy  disappear- 
ed. Instead  of  curing  the  heretics  of  Styria  by  threats 
of  banishment,  he  built  them  churches,  and  gave  them 
pastors. 

Gratz,  the  capital  of  Styria,  is  a  handsome,  bustling, 
and  prosperous  town,  seated  on  the  Mur,  which  has 
already  been  augmented  by  the  waters  of  the  rapid 
Merz,  and  surrounded  by  a  plain  which  is  an  orchard. 
After  Vienna  and  Prague,  it  is  the  most  populous  city 
in  the  hereditary  dominions  of  Austria,  and  contains 
thirty-five  thousand  inhabitants.  Besides  its  own  ma- 
nufactures in  woollen  and  cotton  stutFs,  it  is  the  entre- 
pot of  all  the  trade  between  the  capital  and  Trieste. 
The  character  of  its  inhabitants  is  marked  by  the  same 
love  of  pleasure  which  distinguishes  the  Viennese,  but 
is  accompanied  with  more  archness  and  vivacity.  Its 
females  are  celebrated  at  once  for  their  beauty,  and 
their  softness  of  heart — but  there  are  many  places  in 


43S  STYRIA. 

Europe  which  can  equal  it  in  both  respects.  The 
Gratzer  belle  is,  in  sjeneral,  buxorn  and  blonde,  rather 
low  in  stature,  of  a  full  voluptuous  growth,  a  roundish 
face,  and  a  remarkably  clear  couiplexion.  The  eyes 
are  universally  the  most  eloquent  part  of  her  form, 
and,  in  disposition,  she  is  a  romp.  No  capita!  is  richer 
in  female  beauty  than  Vienna,  however  poor  it  may  be 
in  far  more  valuable  female  quaitiies,  and  its  affluence 
is  derived,  in  a  great  measure,  from  the  diversity  of 
bodily  form,  as  well  as  mental  constitution,  among  the 
different  provinces  which  compose  the  empire.  The 
peculiarity  of  Vieiioa,  in  this  respect,  lies  in  the  diffe- 
rent styles  of  beauty  which  are  collected  in  it;  for,  in 
all  the  provinces,  the  Pracht-exemplare — the  show-edi- 
tions— of  the  other  sex  generally  find  their  way  to 
the  capital,  either  seeking  or  accompanying  a  husband. 

Gratz  was  the  capital  of  the  vStyrian  dukes,  so  often 
as  the  province  was  not  under  one  head  Avith  Austria; 
and  even  when  the  provinces  were  thus  united,  it  fre- 
quently was  enlivened  by  the  residence  of  the  common 
sovereign.  Ferdinand  II.  built  for  himself  a  pompous 
mausoleum,  in  which  his  own  remains,  and  those  of  his 
mother,  are  still  exhibited.  Ferdinand  no  doubt  be- 
lieved that  he  was  discharging  a  duty  in  persecuting 
Protestantism ;  but  there  seems  to  have  been  some- 
thing ominously  prophetic  in  the  text  which  he  caused 
to  be  inscribed  on  his  sepulchre,  "The  seed  of  the  just 
shall  inherit  the  earth." 

Lower  Styria,  which'intervenes  between  Gratz  and 
the  frontiers  of  Carniola,  is  very  different  from  the 
northern  part  of  the  province,  both  in  its  external  ap- 
pearance, and  in  its  productions.  It  is  a  varied  and 
fertile  plain,  watered  by  the  Mur  and  the  Drave,  both 
of  which  are  now  large  rivers;  and  instead  of  the  mi- 
neral riches  which  constitute  the  wealth  of  Upper 
Styria,  it  supplies  to  Austria  w'nc  and  corn,  honey  and 
capons.  The  vines  are  principally  raised  along  the 
banks  of  the  Drave,  and  on  the  rich  plains  Avhich  ex- 


THE  WINDEN.  469 

tend,  in  the  eastern  portion  of  the  district,  to  the  fron- 
tiers of  Hungary.  Tlie  wines  are  acid,  like  those  of 
Austria,  but  suuje  sorts  have  so  much  tire  that  they 
are  never  drunk  without  being  mixed  with  a  more 
harmless  variety.  Tiiose  of  Radkersburg  and  Lutten- 
berg  are  the  most  intoxicating.  Mahi  buig,  a  thriving 
town,  on  a  commandir)g  eminence  above  the  rapid 
Drave,  is  the  centre  of  the  trade.  Beyond  tliis  point, 
the  language,  and  even  tfie  character  of  the  popula- 
tion, suddenly  ch.anges — for  the  country  between  the 
Drave  and  Carniola  is  inhabited  by  a  race  who,  till 
this  day,  have  preserved  their  own  ruder  dialect,  and 
less  comfortable  habits,  against  the  influence  of  the 
German  tribes,  who  gradually  occupied  all  the  other 
parts  of  the  provmce.  Tliey  are  descendants  of  the 
Winden,  a  noithern  horde,  who,  in  conjunction  with 
other  barbarians,  possessed  themselves  of  Styria,  after 
the  falling  fortunes  of  Rome  had  recalled  her  legions 
from  Noricum  and  Pannonia.  Expelled,  in  their  turn, 
by  Charlemagne  from  the  whole  of  Upper,  and  the 
northern  part  of  Lower  Styria,  they  found  a  settled 
abode  in  its  soiNfhern  exti'emity,  only  by  submitting  to 
the  domination  of  the  conqueror,  and  have  maintained 
themselves,  in  a  great  measure,  pure  from  German  in- 
novations. Even  at  Zilly,  the  Roman  Celleia,  the 
great  mass  of  the  people  no  longer  understands  the 
language  of  Styria,  arid,  instead  of  the  substantial 
dwellings  in  the  other  parts  of  the  province,  nothing 
can  exceed  the  miserable  hovels  of  the  peasantry. 
They  are  formed  entirely  of  trees,  hewn,  on  two  sides, 
into  a  flat  surface,  and  laid  horizc  ntally  above  each 
other,  those  which  form  the  two  ends  being  notched 
into  those  of  which  the  front  and  back  of  the  house 
are  composed.  Sometimes,  but  not  at  all  universally, 
the  crevices  are  filled  with  a  sort  of  oakum.  There 
is  no  outlet  for  the  smoke  except  the  door;  and  the 
small  apertuie  which  serves  as  a  window  is  frequently 
Hot  more  than  a  foot  square. 


440  CARNIOLA. 

Another  mountainous  ridge,  though  of  very  mode- 
rate elevation,  and  scarcely  interesting  when  compared 
with  the  Carinthian  Alps  which  rise  to  the  westward, 
must  be  crossed  before   the   traveller  descends  to  the 
valley  of  the  Save,  and  enters  Carniola.     In  the  north- 
ern   part  of  this   singular  province  all  is   beauty  and 
fertility;  in    the   southern,   all  is  barren,  naked  rock. 
JLaybach,  the  capital,  is  likewise  the  first  town  of  any 
importance   which    presents  itself.     It    was    founded, 
according  to  the  civic  fradition,  by  Jason,  when  on  his 
return  from  Colchis  with   the  Golden  Fleece.     From 
the  Black  Sea,  he  came   up  the  Danube  to  Belgrade 
where  it  is  joined    by   the    Save  ;  he   then  struggled 
against  the  current  of  the  Save  as  far  as  where  Laybach 
now  stands  ;  he  and  his  companions  having  here  founded 
a  city,  and  recruited  their  strength,  took  their  coracles 
on  their  shoulders,  and  crossed  the  Carniolian  Alps  to 
Trieste,    where  they  embarked  for  Greece.     Modern 
notoriety,  however,  threatens   to   eraze  ancient  tradi- 
tion, and  Jason  is  about   to   be   eclipsed    by  the  Holy 
Allies.     The  Congress  is    the    only  thing  which  gives 
Laybach  historical  interest,  and  its  inhabitants,  proud 
that  their  city  should  have   been  selected  as  the  ren- 
dezvous  of  so   many  princes  and   statesmen,  have  as- 
sumed an  affected  tone  of  superiority  which  sometimes 
breaks  out  in  very  ridiculous  forms.  A  steep  eminence 
ori  the  opposite   bank   of  the    Laybach,  the   river  on 
which  the  city   stands,   and   from    which  it    takes  its 
name,  is  crowned  with   the   fortress,  the    melancholy 
abode    of   Italian    liberals.     Lubiana   is   as    terrific    a 
word    to  a    Lombard    as   the    Bastile  ever  was  to  a 
Frenchman. 

At  Upper  Laybach,  the  stage  beyond  Laybach  it- 
self, I  quitted  the  great  road  for  that  which  runs  west- 
ward into  the  mountains  to  Idria,  It  was  about  four 
in  the  afternoon  when  I  entered  it,  assured  that  there 
was  not  more  than  three  hours  driving  to  Idria ;  but 
here,  as  elsewhere,  the  notions  of  the  country  people, 


IDRIA.  441 

in  regard  to  distance,  are  extremely  indefinite.  Dwring 
half  an  hour,  tlie  road  ran  through  a  narrow  plain  ;  it 
then  began  to  ascend  rapidly  aniong  dark  woods  of  fir 
running  along  the  edge  of  deep  hollows,  and  we  were 
still  in  the  woods,  and  still  ascending,  when  even  the 
uncertain  light  of  evening  disappeared,  and  a  dreary, 
rainy,  and  pitch-dark  night  rendered  it  as  dangerous  to 
proceed,  as  the  loneliness  of  the  country  rendered  it 
impossible  to  find  refuge  from  the  storm.  Moreover, 
Giacomo,  the  coachman,  had  drunk  more  plentifully 
than  was  prudent,  and  neither  he  nor  his  cattle  had 
ever  made  the  journey  before.  His  supplications  to 
the  Virgin,  and,  by  the  time  he  was  fairly  drenched 
with  rain,  to  Bacchus,  threw  in  our  way  some  of  the 
carters  employed  to  convey  wood  and  charcoal  to  Idria 
from  the  more  distant  recesses  of  the  mountains ;  but 
they  seemed  to  deserve  the  same  reputation  for  rude- 
ness and  ierocity  which  distinguishes  them  in  so  many 
other  places.  According  to  them,  we  were  still  as  far 
from  Idria  as  we  had  been  four  hours  before.  Giaco- 
mo's  broken  Croatian  soon  informed  them  that  he  was 
a  stranger  ;  and  all  his  inquiries  about  inns  and  ale- 
houses were  only  answered  by  a  horse  laugh.  His  pa- 
tience being  already  exhausted,  he  could  not  bear  to 
have  vulgar  insult  added  to  misfortune,  and  let  loose 
upon  them  his  whole  stock  of  Italian  oaths,  (and  it  was 
not  a  small  one,)  concluding  with  assuring  me,  for  our 
mutual  consolation,  that  they  undoubtedly  were  "  Sio-- 
nori  della  Kruhitza.'"^  However,  satisfied  with  laugh- 
ing at  our  troubles,  and  increasing  them  by  more  than 
doubling  the  road  we  had  yet  to  drive,  they  neither 
attempted  to  assault  nor  rob  us. 

*  The  Kruhitza  is  the  name  of  a  mountain  pass,  practicable  on- 
ly on  foot  or  horseback,  leading  through  the  forests  directly  from 
Idria  to  Gorizia.  It  has  the  reputation  of  being  infested  by  ban- 
ditti. Probably  this  danger  is  exaggerated,  as  it  is  every  where ; 
but  about  Gorizia  it  is  a  proverbial  saying,  "  Chi  vuol  rubar'  se  ne 
vad'  alia  Kruhitza." 

56 


442  CARNIOLA. 

We  continued  to  creep  on  up  the  mountain,  now 
plunging  into  the  pine  forests,  where  we  learned  that 
we  were  getting  oif  the  road  only  by  the  horses  run- 
ning their  heads  against  the  trees,  and  now  emerging 
upon  a  barren,  hilly  heath,  where  the  closest  attention 
only  showed  that,  to  avoid  being  precipitated  into  a 
deep  dell,  it  was  much  safer  to  trust  to  the  animals 
than  to  their  conductor.  On  arriving  at  a  small  village 
where  there  was  a  sort  of  inn,  nothing  could  prevail 
on  Giacomo  to  move  a  foot  farther  till  day-light.  I  was 
little  inclined  to  pay  any  regard  to  the  statements  of 
the  landlord,  that  it  was  positively  dangerous  to  drive 
on  to  Idria  in  the  dark,  without  a  person  who  knew 
every  inch  of  the  road ;  because  I  took  it  for  granted 
that  he  merely  speculated  on  the  advantage  of  having 
a  guest.  I  did  him  foul  wrong.  On  making  the  rest 
of  the  journey  next  morning,  I  was  compelled  to  ac- 
knowledge the  accuracy  of  liis  representations,  and  to 
be  perfectly  sa-jsfied  with  the  obstinacy  of  Giacomo. 
The  accommodations  of  the  little  hostelry  were  much 
more  comfortable  than  any  man  has  a  right  to  expect 
in  such  a  part  of  such  a  country.  In  these  houses,  the 
landlord,  commonly  his  wife,  and  always  the  female 
who  acts  as  waiter  and  chambermaid,  speak  German. 
In  fact,  the  language  is  taught  in  all  the  country 
schools;  but  this  has  hitherto  had  little  effect  in  mak- 
ing it  general  among  the  peasantry  ;  for  the  great  point 
always  is,  not  what  a  child  learns  in  a  school,  but  what 
it  speaks  and  hears  out  of  the  school.  It  learns  Ger- 
man words  during  the  short  time  it  is  in  the  presence 
of  the  master ;  out  of  his  reach,  it  speaks  and  hears 
only  its  native  Croatian  dialect.  Small  tracts  for  the 
use  of  the  peasantry  have  even  been  printed  in  Croa- 
tian, and  some  attempts  have  been  made  towards  com- 
piling a  dictionary. 

Next  morning,  we  proceeded,  during  an  hour,  over 
the  same  barren  country.  Of  a  sudden  the  road  seems 
t©  disappear  right  before  the  eyes  of  the  traveller,  and 


IDRIA.  443 

he  finds  himself  on  the  brink  of  a  huge  hollow  in  the 
mountains.  The  eii'ect  is  singular  and  striking.  He 
looks  down  into  the  whole  of  this  kettle,  surrounded 
on  every  side  by  irregular  towering  crags,  which  arc 
here  and  there  tufted  with  patches  of  fir,  but,  in  ge- 
neral, exhibit  only  the  naked  and  dreary  rock.  The 
picture  was  entirely  changed  by  the  mist  in  which 
every  thing  was  enveloped.  The  morning  was  not 
sufficiently  advanced  ;  the  sun,  though  bright  and 
warm  above,  had  not  yet  penetrated  into  the  gulf, 
which  was  filled  to  the  brim  with  white  fleecy  va- 
pour, into  which  the  road  seemed  to  descend,  as  if 
into  mere  air.  All  around,  the  rugged  cliffs  rose  above 
its  surface,  like  the  rocky  shores  of  a  mountain  lake, 
and  imagination  could  assign  no  depth  to  the  abyss 
over  which  its  hght  and  hoveling  mantle  was  spread. 
As  the  sun  came  nearer  the  meridian,  the  vapour  be- 
gan to  rise  slowly,  but  without  dividing  itself  into  those 
distinct,  and  rapidly  ascending  columns,  which  often 
produce  such  fantastic  appearances,  in  the  higher  pas- 
sages of  the  Swiss  Alps.  In  a  short  time  the  whole 
kettle  was  visible,  terminating  below  in  a  narrow,  irre- 
gular valley.  The  Idria,  issuing  at  once  from  the 
mountains  on  the  south,  rushed  along  in  the  bottom. 
On  the  crags  which,  circling  round,  seem  to  shut  out 
this  spot  from  all  communication  with  the  world,  not  a 
cottage  was  to  be  seen,  for  they  are  too  precipitous  ; 
and  only  here  and  there  a  few  scanty  patches  of  culti- 
vation, for  they  are  too  barren.  In  the  centre  of  the 
valley,  and  about  seven  hundred  feet  below  the  brink, 
the  eye  rested  on  the  little  town  of  Idria,  and  the  huts 
scattered  round  the  base  of  the  mountain  which  con- 
tains the  entrance  to  the  niines.^ 

*  The  discovery  of  these  mercurial  mines,  like  that  of  so  many 
other  mines,  is  attributed  to  accident.  A  Carniolian  peasant,  who 
drove  a  small  trade  in  wooden  vessels,  was  in  the  habit  of  groping 
his  way  into  this  recess,  at  that  time  entirely  covered  with  wood, 
to  procure  materials  for  his  tubs  and  pails,  which  he  sometime? 


444  CARNIOLA. 

The  entrance  to  the  mine  is  a  little  to  the  south- 
ward of  the  town,  in  the  side  of  a  small  hillock  which 
rises  in  front  of  the  mountainous  wall  that  surrounds 
the  dell.  The  visitor  puts  on  a  miner's  dress.  It  is 
not  only  necessary  to  leave  behind  watches,  rings,  snuff- 
boxes, and  similar  articles  which  would  infalliby  be  af- 

finished  on  the  spot.  He  had  placed  some  pails  over  night  in  a 
small  pool  in  a  rivulet  which  issued  from  the  mountain,  for  the 
purpose  of  "•  seasoning"  them,  as  we  ivould  express  it.  To  keep 
them  under  water,  he  put  into  them  a  quantity  of  sand  taken  frrm 
the  bed  of  the  stream.  In  the  morning,  he  found  all  his  strength 
scarcely  sufficient  to  lift  one  of  them  out  of  the  water.  He  could 
ascribe  this  only  to  the  weight  of  the  sand  which  he  had  thrown 
in  by  handfuls  the  evening  before  ;  sand  so  heavy  was  to  him  a 
phenomenon,  and  he  carried  some  of  it  to  the  paster  of  his  village. 
The  latter,  suspecting  what  might  be  the  reason,  sent  it  to  the  Im- 
perial Director  of  M-nes,  and,  on  examination,  it  was  found  to  con- 
tain above  half  its  weight  of  quicksilver.  The  whole  of  what  now 
constitutes  the  department  of  idrla  was  immediately  declared  a  do- 
main of  the  crown,  but  the  mines  were  first  ^.vorked  by  private  ad- 
venturers on  leases,  and  the  miners  have  still  preserved  various 
traditions  of  the  ruin  which  some,  and  the  difficulties  which  all  of 
these  speculators  had  to  encounter.  The  shafts  were  driven  deep 
in  the  solid  rock,  but  no  quicksilver  appeared.  One  after  another, 
the  speculators  drew  back  from  the  undertaking,  and  it  centered  at 
last  in  one  who  was  more  sanguine  and  persevering.  But  he,  too, 
hoped  and  laboured  in  vain  ;  and  the  destitution  into  which  he  had 
plunged  his  family  by  the  unsuccessful  adventure  brought  him  to 
his  grave.  His  widow  was  compelled  to  give  up  the  operations  ; 
but  the  workmen  declared  they  would  still  make  an  attempt  for 
the  family  of  him  who  had  so  long  given  them  bread,  and  continue 
the  search  fourteen  days  longer,  without  w;iges.  The  fourteenth 
of  these  days  arrived,  but  no  quicksilver  appeared.  Towards  the 
afternoon,  as  the  workmen,  who  had  been  annoyed  all  day  long  by 
sulphureous  vapours  and  a  more  uncomfortable  atmosphere  than 
usual,  were  about  to  give  up  their  task  for  ever  in  despondency, 
and  prepare  to  celebrate  above  ground  the  festival  of  their  patron 
saint,  of  which  this  happened  to  be  the  eve,  a  shout  from  the  low- 
est part  of  the  shaft  announced  that  the  deep  concealed  vein  had  at 
length  been  dragged  from  its  lurking  place.  The  saint  was  post- 
poned, and  the  mercury  pursued.  It  was  soon  ascertained  that  the 
labours  and  expense  of  years  would  be  amply  repaid.  The  reviv- 
ed widow  prudently  sold  her  remaining  right  to  the  government, 
and,  since  that  period,  during  more  than  four  hundred  years,  Idria 
has  not  ceased  to  pour  its  thousands  into  the  imperial  treasury. 


IDRIA.  445 

fected  by  the  quicksilver;  but,  for  the  same  reason, 
the  accompanying  miner  insists  on  your  dispensing  with 
all  coats  and  waistcoats  which  have  metal  buttons.  In 
every  case  a  miner's  dress  is  at  once  more  convenient, 
and  more  independent  of"  the  moisture  and  rubbings, 
"which  may  be  encountered  below  ground,  although,  in 
this  beautiful  mine,  there  is  httle  to  be  apprehended 
from  either.  The  miners  have  not  yet  ceased  their 
jokes  on  two  ladies  who  went  down  with  some  fash- 
ionable company  during  the  Congress  in  the  neighbour- 
ing Laybach,  and  returned,  the  one  with  her  gold 
Avatch  converted  into  a  tin  trinket  by  the  quicksilver, 
and  the  fair  cheeks  and  neck  of  the  other  bedaubed 
with  the  blackness  of  falsehood  by  the  sulphur. 

The  descent  can  be  made  to  the  very  bottom  of 
the  mine  in  less  than  five  minutes,  in  one  of  the  large 
buckets  in  which  the  ore  is  brought  above  ground. 
This  mode,  though  the  less  fatiguing,  is  not  therelbre 
the  better  ;  for,  in  desC'Ljndmg  the  shaft  on  foot,  one 
can  observe  much  better  the  care  and  regularity  with 
which  all  the  operations  have  been  carried  on,  parti- 
cularly in  later  times.  From  the  first  step,  day-light 
is  excluded,  for  the  passage,  hewn  in  the  rock,  descends 
at  a  very  acute  angle  ;  were  it  a  smooth  surface,  it 
would  be  impracticable.  Excepting  the  steepness,  it 
has  no  other  inconvenience.  Instead  of  clambering 
down  a  wet,  slippery,  wooden  ladder,  as  in  Freyberg, 
you  descend  on  successive  flights  of  steps,  as  regular  as 
if  they  had  been  constructed  for  a  private  dwelling. 
Here  and  there  are  landing  places,  where  galleries 
branch  olf  throu2:h  which  veins  have  been  followed, 
or  the  shaft  descends  in  a  new  direction.  This  is  the 
regular  mode  in  which  the  mining  is  carried  on,  from 
the  surface  of  the  earth  to  the  lowest  part  of  the  mine, 
forming  a  subterraneous  staircase,  descending  about 
seven  hundred  feet,  for  the  mine  as  yet  is  no  deeper, 
owing  to  the  superabundance  and  richness  of  the  ore. 
All  is    pierced   in   the    hard   limestone  rock.     A   still 


446  CARNIOLA. 

more  useful  des^ree  of  care  has  been  bestowed  on  the 
Avails  and  ceiling.  Instead  of  leaving  the  bare  rugged 
rock,  as  is  still  frequently  done  elsewhere,  or  support- 
ing the  roof  with  wo  )d,  as  was  in  former  times  the 
universal  practice,  this  passage  into  the  earth  is  lined 
with  a  strong  wall  of  hewn  stone,  arched  above  ;  so 
that  the  descent  is  in  reality  through  a  commodious 
vaulted  passage  about  four  feet  wide,  and,  in  average 
height,  rather  more  than  six.  The  walling  with  stone 
is  preferable,  both  in  security  and  duration,  to  the  old 
custom  of  lining  and  supporting  the  shafts  with  wood; 
the  increasirjg  scarcity  aiid  value  of  wood  have  like- 
wise made  it  the  cheaper  mode.  Neither  is  the  labour 
so  great  as,  at  first  sight,  might  be  imagined.  The 
stones  used  are  those  cut  out  in  carrymg  the  shaft 
itself  downwards.  All  the  trouble  of  transporting  them 
along  a  gaDery  to  the  bottom  of  the  perpendicular 
shaft  by  which  the  ore  and  rubbish  are  conveyed 
above  ground,  is  thus  saved.  No  mine  could  be  more 
fortunate  in  regard  to  the  absence  of  water.  A  slight 
degree  of  moisture  on  the  walls  and  ceiling  is  all  that 
can  be  occasionally  traced.  The  atmosphere  is  per- 
fectly dry  and  comfortable,  except  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  rich  veins. 

The  spot  where  the  original  adventurers  found  the 
first  vein  of  mercury  is  pointed  out  rather  more  than 
two  hundred  feet  below  ground,  that  is,  at  one-third  of 
the  depth  to  which  the  mine  has  been  carried  during 
the  four  hundred  years  that  have  since  elapsed,  a 
striking  proof  how^  abundant  and  productive  the  veins 
must  have  proved.  The  original  one,  however,  does 
not  seem  to  have  been  followed,  for  the  first  gallery 
is  considerably  lower.  The  deeper  you  go,  the  more 
thickly  do  the  veins  come  upon  each  other.  Their 
direction,  in  general,  is  nearly  horizontal,  but  it  is  not 
at  all  uncommon  to  find  them  ascending;  in  this  case, 
they  are  not  followed.  Even  where  they  retain  the 
horizontal  direction,  or  rise  at  a  yerj  trifling  angle. 


IDRIA.  447 

they  are  not  pursued  to  exhaustion,  unless  they  be 
uncommonly  productive  ;  and  this  extraordinary  rich- 
ness never  continues  long.  Instead  of  exhausting  the 
vein,  a  new  one  is  sought  deeper  down. 

The  oies  vary  considerably  in  point  of  richness. 
What  are  reckoned  good  ores  contain  from  sixty-five 
to  seventy-five  per  cent,  of  pure  quicksilver,  and  these 
are  common  enough.  They  often  go  as  high  as 
eighty-five  per  cent.  The  mercury  is  seldom  found  in 
its  pure  state,  nor,  when  it  does  appear,  is  it  always  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  the  richest  veins.  I  observed 
some  globules  glittering  on  the  walls  of  one  of  the 
galleries  which  was  somewhat  damp,  as  if  it  had  been 
brought  out  by  the  pressure  of  moisture. 

The  only  unpleasant  accompaniment  of  the  ore  is 
the  sulphur  which  almost  universally  attends  it ;  its 
fumes  were  strongest  m  the  lowest  galleries.  The 
miners  have  learned  to  consider  it  as  a  prognostic  of 
good  ore  ;  for  it  is  universally  observed  that  the  richer 
the  vein  is,  the  greater  is  the  quantity  of  sulphur; 
they  have  never  pure  air  and  good  ore  together. 
But  neither  the  action  of  the  sulphur  nor  of  the  mer- 
cury on  the  health  and  appearance  of  the  workmen  is 
at  all  so  striking  as  it  has  sometimes  been  represented. 
That  the  mercury  brings  on  a  periodical  salivation  is 
merely  a  joke.  Its  effects  are  most  observable  on  the 
teeth,  which  are  generally  deficient  and  discoloured. 

The  preparatory  processes  through  which  the  ore 
must  pass  before  being  finally  carried  to  the  roasting 
ovens  are  performed  on  the  other  side  of  the  town,  on 
the  banks  of  the  Idria.  But  it  is  only  with  the  inferior 
ores  that  such  processes  are  necessary  ;  all  that  are 
held  to  contain  sixty-five  per  cent,  of  quicksilver,  or 
upwards,  are  put  immediately  into  the  oven.  This 
may  be  represented  as  a  square  building  divided  by 
brick  floors  into  five  or  six  compartments.  These 
floors  are  not  contmuous,  but  are  pierced  with  a  num- 
ber of  holes,  that  the  flame  and  smoke  may  ascend 


448  CARNIOLA. 

from  the  one  to  the  other.  The  ore  is  spread  out 
upon  them,  the  apertures  being  left  uncovered.  The 
fire  is  kindled  between  the  lowest  floor  and  the  ground, 
and  every  outlet  and  crevice  in  the  whole  fabric  is  then 
carefully  shut.  Tlie  action  of  the  fire,  gradually  ex- 
tending itself  from  one  layer  to  another  through  the 
openings  in  the  floors,  separates  the  quicksilver  from 
its  accom^janyin^  fossils;  it  rises  sublimated,  along  with 
the  smoke,  to  the  top,  from  whence  it  has  no  passage 
but  by  flues  which  are  led  through  the  walls  in  a  wind- 
ing direction,  that  it  may  ool  by  continued  circulation. 
As  it  cools,  the  pure  quicksilver  is  precipitated,  and 
descends,  by  internal  communications  between  the  flues, 
to  the  lower  part  of  the  wall.  The  (ire  is  kept  up, 
till  it  is  ascertained  by  the  disappearance  of  vapours, 
that  all  the  mercury  has  been  disengaged  ;  nor  are  the 
outlets  opened  till  the  whole  is  so  cool  that  all  the 
quicksilver  must  have  been  deposited.  The  metal  is 
found  deposited  in  hollows  at  the  bottom  of  the  walls, 
made  on  purpose  to  receive  it,  and  communicating  with 
the  flues.  The  sulphur  is  gained  at  the  same  time. 
The  quicksilver  is  then  tied  up  in  sheep  or  goat  skins, 
prepared  with  alum,  these  having  been  found  to  be  the 
cheapest  and  most  convenient  of  the  materials  which 
will  contain  mercury  without  being  injured. 

At  stated  seasons,  twice  or  thrice  a  year,  it  is  neces- 
sary to  sweep  out  the  dust  which  gathers  in  the  flues, 
adheres  to  the  walls,  and  settles  on  the  corners  in  the 
interior  of  the  ovens.  This  labour  is  found  to  be  so 
unhealthy,  that  it  is  not  laid  upon  the  workmen  as  a 
regular  part  of  their  duty  ;  additional  wages  are  paid 
to  those  who  volunteer  to  perform  it.  The  whole 
face  is  carefully  wrapped  up;  but  no  precautions  can 
secure  them  etfectually  agjainst  the  prejudicial  influ- 
ence of  this  dust,  loaded  with  so  many  noxious  parti- 
cles. It  produces  trembling  fits,  and  frequently  con- 
vulsions, which,  for  a  time,  disable  the  workmen  for 
labour. 


IDRIA.  449 

Close  by  are  the  buildings  for  the  manufacture  of 
Zinnober,  the  led  sublimate  of  mercury.  For  a  long 
time  there  has  been  notliing  done  in  them,  because  the 
stock  on  hand  far  exceeds  any  probable  demand  for  it. 
A  great  deal  of  caution  was  aUvays  observed  in  allow- 
ing strangers  to  visit  it,  owing  to  a  wish  to  keep  secret 
some  particular  processes  of  the  manufacture. 

The  mine  is  wrought  at  the  expense  and  for  the  ac- 
count of  the  Austrian  government.  The  sales  and  re- 
venues are  under  the  direction  of  an  office  in  Vienna 
called  the  Bergwerks-productiori'Vcrschliess-Dircction^  a 
compound  which,  notwithstanding  its  formidable  length, 
means  just,  Commissioners  of  Mines.  Among  its  active 
members  there  is  always  a  number  of  mineralogists  and 
practical  miners.  The  great  profit  of  the  mine  lies, 
not  so  much  in  the  quantity,  as  in  the  quality  of  the 
ore,  and  the  small  expense  at  which  the  metal  is  pro- 
duced. When  the  good  ores  are  once  above  ground^ 
the  only  further  expense  of  any  consequence  is  the 
wood  used  in  the  roasting  ovens.  Even  with  the  infe- 
rior ores,  although  the  beating  them  into  dust  by  ma- 
chinery, and  then  washing  them  repeatedly  to  separate 
the  particles  which  contain  mercury  from  the  lighter 
sand  which  contains  none,  be  a  somewhat  tedious  pro- 
cess, yei  it  is  not  at  all  an  expensive  one.  The  profits 
have  always  been  reckoned  at  fifty  per  cent,  on  the 
wholesale  price  at  which  the  metal  is  consigned  to  the 
mine-directory  in  Vienna.  The  people  on  the  spot 
either  did  not  know,  or  would  not  tell  the  price ;  but, 
according  to  Sartori,  about  sixteen  years  ago,  the  prime 
cost  to  the  Direction  was  110  florins  (L.  11)  per  cwt. 
To  other  purchasers  it  was  charged  at  150  florins,  (L. 
IT),)  except  to  Spain,  who  received  it  at  prime  cost. 
This  was  in  consequence  of  a  convention  between  Joseph 
II.  and  Spain,  by  which  the  latter,  on  receiving  the 
mineral  at  that  price,  bound  itself  to  take  annually 
ten  thousand  cwt.  of  quicksilver,  and  upwards  of  one 
thousand  cwt.  of  red  sublimate.  The  quicksilver  was 
57 


450  CARNIOLA. 

principally  for  the  purposes  of  amalgamation  in  the 
mines  of  South  Aaierica,  and  the  eiionnous  consump- 
tion betrays  a  faiilty  mode  of  manipulation  in  Peru; 
for  at  FreybLM-g  1  was  assured,  that  the  loss  of  mercu- 
ry in  amalgamation  in  the  Saxon  mines  does  not  exceed 
an  ounce  in  the  hundred  weight.  Idria,  therefore, 
under  these  circusnstances,  was  no  unimportant  item  in 
the  civil  list  revenue  of  Austria,  since,  exclusive  of  all 
other  modes  of  consumption,  the  contract  with  Spain 
alone  must  have  yielded  an  annual  profit  of  more  than 
L.  50,000.  From  the  commencement  of  the  contest 
between  Spain  and  her  colonies,  this  great  outlet  gra- 
dually became  more  and  more  confined,  and  is  now  en- 
tirely cut  off.  Idria  at  present  does  not,  on  an  ave- 
rage, produce  annually  more  than  three  thousand  hun- 
dred weight  of  quicksilver.  Even  on  this  narrowed 
scale,  the  profits,  I  was  assured,  amount  annually  to 
above  200,000  florins,  more  than  L.  20,000  Sterling. 
The  Direction  takes  care  that  the  supply  shall  exceed 
the  demand  as  little  as  possible.  Every  two  years  a 
statement  is  sent  down  to  Idria  of  the  quantity  which 
it  is  thought  will  be  sufficient  for  each  of  the  two  fol- 
lowing, and  on  this  depends  the  number  of  workmen 
and  the  regularity  of  their  employment. 

This  immoderate  decline  in  the  consumption,  amount- 
ing to  more  than  one-fourth  of  the  whole,  besides  tak- 
ing money  out  of  the  emperor's  pocket,  has  necessari- 
ly diminished  the  population  of  Idria.  In  its  flourish- 
ing state,  the  mine  gave  bread  to  between  1100  and 
1200  men,  of  whom  300  were  employed  merely  in  fell- 
ing wood  in  the  neighbouring  mountains,  and  conveying 
it  to  Idria.  The  persons  employed  at  present  do  not 
amount  to  a  third  of  that  number.  The  diminution, 
moreover,  was  the  more  sensibly  felt,  because  it  came 
at  a  time  when  the  most  active  prosperity  would  have 
been  required  to  repair  the  injurious  consequences  of 
a  conflagration  which  had  rendered  the  mine  useless 
during  nearly  three  years.     It  was  never  ascertained 


IDRIA.  451 

how  the  fire  originated.  The  galleries  were  in  many 
places  still  lined  and  roofed  with  wood,  and  in  these 
the  fire  is  supposed  to  have  be^un.  In  180J,  on  the 
night  between  the  I.Oth  and  16th  oi  iVlurcfi,  the  work- 
men observed  a  thick  smoke  issuing  from  some  of  the 
lower  galleries.  It  ascended  and  spread  itself  through 
the  higher.  No  lire  was  seen,  no  sound  of  tlanies  was 
h  ard ;  but  it  was  too  evident  that  the  mine  was  on 
fire  below.  Some  of  the  workmen,  with  great  intre- 
pidity, endeavoured  to  reach  the  scene  of  the  confla- 
gration. It  was  in  vain;  they  were  Ibrced  to  retreat 
from  one  gallery  to  another,  flying  before  an  enemy 
"whom  they  could  not  discover,  for  the  smoke,  which 
continued  to  make  its  way  upwards  to  the  opet)  air, 
was  not  merely  so  dense  and  suffocating,  but  so  loaded 
with  noxious  fumes  and  particles  let  loose  from  the 
fossils  among  which  the  flames  were  raging  in  the  bow- 
els of  the  earth,  that  no  living  thing  could  safely  meet 
it,  much  less  penetrate  it.  They  were  fortunate  enough 
to  save  themselves  above  ground,  and  the  idea  was 
adopted  of  extinguishing  the  fire  by  excluding  the  air. 
All  the  passages  were  closed  as  near  to  the  supposed 
scene  of  the  conflagration  as  they  could  be  reached. 
The  two  shafts  which  lead  immediately  above  ground 
were  stopped  up  outside,  and  plastered  over  with  clay. 
Five  weeks  the  mine  remained  thus  sealed  up,  but 
without  eifect.  Twice,  during  this  period,  the  cover- 
ings above  were  removed  ;  each  time  the  enemy  was 
found  more  furious  than  before.  The  flames  were 
heard  raging  below  with  a  sound  at  which  the  miner 
still  trembles  when  he  relates  it ;  the  smoke,  burden- 
ed with  mercurial  and  sulphureous  exhalations,  rolled 
forth  from  the  mouth  of  the  pit,  like  steam^  f  cm  the 
jaws  of  Acheron,  striking  down  every  one  that  came 
withiD  its  reach.  It  was  apprehended  that  the  fire 
had  attacked  the  upper  works,  and  was  thus  threaten- 
ing the  final  destruction  of  the  mine.  As  a  last  re- 
source, the   Director  resolved    to    hazard    the   experi- 


45a  CARNIOLA. 

ment  of  laying  the  mine  under  water.  A  stream  was 
turned  into  the  perpendicular  shaft,  and  allowed  to 
flow  two  days  and  rhree  nights.  During  the  first  day 
it  produced  no  effect.  In  the  course  of  the  second 
day,  whether  it  was  that  steam,  generated  by  the  meet- 
ing of  the  fire  and  the  water,  was  struggling  for  escape, 
or  that  an  inflammable  air  had  been  produced  and  kin- 
dled by  the  glowing  fossils,  of  a  sudden  a  subterrane- 
ous explosion  shook  the  mountain  with  the  noise  and 
violence  of  an  earthquake.  The  huts  of  the  miners 
situated  near  the  entrance  were  rent  ;  houses  farther 
off,  but  standing  on  the  slope  or  near  the  skirts  of  the 
hill,  started  from  their  foundations;  and  the  panic- 
struck  inhabitants  w^ere  flying  in  dismay  from  the  ruin 
that  seemed  to  threaten  their  valley.  The  whole 
thing  must  have  been  splendid;  accidental  as  it  was, 
art  could  go  no  farther  in  imitating  nature.  In  the 
mine  itself,  as  was  afterwards  found,  the  explosion  had 
rent  the  galleries,  thrown  down  the  arched  roofs,  and 
torn  up  the  stairs.  But  the  victory  was  gained  ;  the 
vapours  began  to  diminish,  and  at  the  end  of  some 
weeks  it  was  possible  to  venture  into  the  mine.  It 
cost  two  years  to  prepare  an  apparatus  and  pump  out 
the  water.  It  was  carried  off  into  the  Idria,  and  was 
found  to  contain  only  a  small  quantity  of  mercury,  but 
a  large  proportion  of  vitriolic  acid,  and  so  much  iron, 
that  the  bed  and  banks  of  the  river  were  incrusted 
with  iron  ochre  throughout  its  whole  course,  from 
Idria  to  where  it  falls  into  the  Lisonzo.  At  the  same 
time,  every  fish  disappeared  from  the  stream,  except 
the  eel,  which  seems  to  bid  defiance  to  every  thing  ex- 
cept actual  broiling  or  roasting. 

Even  when  the  galleries  had  been  cleared  of  the 
water,  it  was  impossible  to  work  in  them,  partly  from 
the  heat  which  they  still  retained,  but  still  more  from 
the  fumes  of  sublimated  mercury,  which  produced  in 
the  miners  a  violent  salivation,  accompanied  with  con- 
vulsions, and  trembling  of  the  limbs.     To  produce  an 


THE  PEASANTRY.  453 

almost  inhuman  zeal,  high  wages  were  offered  to  such 
as  would  venture  into  places  reckoned  the  most  dan- 
gerous to  explore  the  consequences  of  the  disaster,  and 
collect  the  quicksilver  which  had  been  deposited  in 
large  quantities  in  the  galleries.  Many  purchased  this 
additional  pittance  with  their  lives ;  and  altogether, 
the  atmosphere,  which  continued  for  months  to  infest 
the  mine,  was  so  baneful,  that  it  was  difficult  to  muster 
a  sufficient  number  of  healthy  men  for  the  ordinary 
operations. 

The  town  of  Tdria,  originating  from,  and  depending 
on  the  mines,  has  felt,  of  course,  the  fluctuations  of 
their  prosperity.  The  wages  which  the  mmers  earn, 
even  when  in  full  employment,  are  so  trivial,  that  they 
never  can  rise  above  a  stale  of  destitution.  Of  the  in- 
habitants who  are  not  occupied  in  the  mines,  some  of 
the  men  manufacture  a  coarse  linen  which  others  car- 
ry about  the  country,  and  even  into  Lower  Austria  for 
gale.  The  women  manufacture  equally  coarse  lace, 
which  is  not  intended,  indeed,  for  the  luxurious  market 
of  the  capital,  but  finds  purchasers  in  the  peasantry, 
and  in  the  populace  of  the  small  towns,  not  only  of 
Carniola  itself,  but  likewise  of  Upper  Styria,  and  down 
throughout  Croatia  to  the  frontiers  of  Tuikey.  The 
aoil  of  the  Idrian  is  much  too  unkindly  to  yield  him 
the  materials  of  his  manufacture ;  he  buys  his  flax  in 
Bohemia.  With  him  the  riches  of  the  earth  are  con- 
cealed in  her  bosom ;  skill  and  industry  would  be 
equally  wasted  on  the  stubborn  rocks  that  surround  his 
dell.  Yet,  even  on  the  steep  sides  of  this  mountain 
kettle,  he  has  done  every  thmg  that  labour  can  accom- 
plish. Wherever  a  corner  could  be  found  that  pre- 
sented somethmg  like  an  evenly  and  sheltered  surface, 
with  a  perseverance  deserving  of  a  more  liberal  re- 
ward he  has  brought  earth  from  a  distance,  formed  an 
artificial  soil  on  the  barren  rock,  and  planted  his  scanty 
crop  of  rye.  The  produce  of  this  cultivation  is,  of 
course,  far   from  equalling  the  toil   it  has  cost.     Not 


454  CARNIOLA. 

only  this  more  naked  part  of  the  country,  but  the 
whole  province  of  Carniola,  like  the  greater  part  of 
the  adjoining  Croatia,  bj  no  means  produces  what  its 
own  consumption  requires.  The  deficiency  is  made  up 
by  importations  from  Hungary,  that  inexhaustible  re- 
pository of  corn  and  wine,  but  the  importations  are 
extremely  Imiited,  for  Carniola  has  no  money,  and  pro- 
duces little  that   Hungary  requires. 

To  the  Carniolian,  as  in  general  to  the  peasantry  of 
the  empire,  w beaten  bread  or  animal  food  is  a  luxury. 
Black  broth,  thick  with  vegetables,  still  blacker  bread, 
and  sometimes  a  scanty  platter  of  small,  rank,  watery 
potatoes,  are  his  customary  food.  Even  this  penury 
he  gains  only  by  incessant  toil.  He  binds  on  his  sliould- 
ers  his  few  webs  of  coarse  linen  or  lace,  tied  up  in  a 
white  sheet  ;  thus  burdened,  dressed  in  ti  long,  vvhite, 
woollen  coat,  and  low-crovvncd,  broad-brimmrd,  rough 
woollen  hat,  and  armed  with  a  long  statf,  forth  he 
strolls  into  the  world  to  seek  a  market  for  his  wares. 
There  is  not  a  province  of  the  Austrian  empire,  unless 
it  be  Transylvania  or  the  Buckowina,  where  he  is  not 
to  be  found,  hundreds  of  miles  from  his  home,  retail- 
ing the  produce  of  the  industry  of  his  wife  and  daugh- 
ters. On  the  approach  of  winter  he  returns  to  the 
expectant  hut  with  the  profits  of  his  little  adventure, 
and  materials  for  continuing  his  little  manufacture. 
During  his  peregrination  he  is  remarkable  for  frugality; 
he  indulges  in  no  luxury  ;  in  a  great  degree  he  sets 
even  the  allurements  of  intoxication  at  defiance,  and 
considers  every  penny  as  a  sacred  deposit  for  which  he 
must  religiously  account  to  his  family  in  the  mountains 
of  Carniola.  Even  amid  the  bustle  and  glitter  of  Vi- 
enna, his  tall  gauni  figure,  and  swarthy  countenance, 
are  seen  plo  Iding  through  the  crowd,  while  he  calls 
aloud  his  "  linens  and  laces,"  without  a  look  for  the 
host  of  passing  gaieties.  The  varieties  of  people  with 
whom  he  deals,  and  the  caution  that  always  springs 
from  the  habit  of  driving  bargains,  sharpen  his  wit,  and 


PLANINA.  455 

make  some  amends  for  the  total  want  of  education. 
He  even  boasts  of  sotne  knowledge  of  the  world.  In 
other  respects,  he  is  just  as  igj.orant  as  the  Hungarian 
peasant  ;  he  is  doomed  to  a  hie  of  much  harder  toil, 
and  more  biting  j^cniny;  but  he  is  neither  so  brutal, 
nor  so  proud,  so  dull,  nor  so  lazy. 

The  great  road  is  regained  at  Loitsch,  and  enters  the 
little,  romantic  valley  ol"  Planina.  Though  not  desti- 
tute of  picturesque  beauty,  it  is  remarkable  only  for 
the  ample  streauj,  the  Laybach,  by  which  it  is  water- 
ed, and  which,  like  so  many  others  in  this  strange  coun- 
try, issues  at  once,  a  full  and  ready-made  river,  from 
the  mountain  that  terminates  the  valley  on  the  south. 
For  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  we  followed  the  course 
of  the  stream  upwards  through  the  narrow  dell,  bound- 
ed on  both  sides  b^  bold  rocks,  and  luited  with  luxu- 
riant underwood.  A  long  array  of  corn  and  saw  mills 
succeeded.  Above  the  last  of  them,  the  dell  is  ter- 
minated by  a  semicircle  of  bold  and  lofty  precipices,  in 
the  middle  of  which  an  enormous  archway,  aW  :  .,c  as 
regularly  formed  as  if  hewn  out  by  the  hand  of  art, 
opens  a  way  into  the  entrails  of  the  mountain.  Tii rough 
this  majestic  portal,  the  whole  nver  pours  itself  forth 
at  once  from  the  bosom  oi  the  earth,  and  spreads  out 
its  waters  to  the  diy  in  an  anVi'le  basin,  which  extends 
on  both  sides  to  the  wall^  of  rock  that  bound  the  dell. 
The  stem  of  a  huge  lir,  hollowed  out  like  a  canoe,  fur- 
nishes the  oni^  means  of  reaching  the  entrance;  for 
the  waters  of  the  basin  not  only  wash  the  precipices, 
but,  as  was  ev'dent  from  the  hollow  sound  of  the 
waves,  have  undermined  them.  A  miller's  man  guid- 
ed this  frail  bark  with  a  wooden  shovel ;  the  whole 
passage  to  the  opening  does  not  exceed  a  hundred  feet, 
and,  if  one  sits  quietly,  danger  is  out   of  the  question. 

This  natural  gateway  is  about  twenty  feet  wide,  and 
twice  as  high.  It  is  regularly  curved.  A  few  steps 
forward,  and  it  enlarges  itself  into  a  cavern  of  mag- 
hificent  dimensions  and  wonderful  regularity  of  form. 


4i5Q  CARNIOLA. 

There  are  not  many  traces  of  stalactite  ornament ;  the 
gigantic  walls  and  vaulted  roof  stand  in  their  natural 
grandeur,  unadorned  and  overpowering.  Nothing 
seems  to  support  the  enormous  weight  of  mountain 
above  ;  it  rises  from  the  earth  gradually  and  regular- 
ly, bending  itself  into  a  majestic  natural  cupola.  The 
effect  is  aided  by  the  circumstance  that,  owing  to  the 
spaciousness  of  the  entrance,  no  part  of  the  dome  re- 
mains in  darkness;  the  eye  takes  in  the  whole  at 
once. 

The  river,  except  when  it  is  inundated,  does  not 
entirely  cover  the  floor  of  the  cavern,  the  bottom  of 
which  slopes  down  from  the  one  side  to  the  other. 
The  upper  part  was  now  deserted,  in  consequence  of 
the  long  continuance  of  dry  weather,  and  consisted  en- 
tirely of  sand,  a  deposition  from  the  stream  which,  when 
swollen,  occupies  the  whole  width  of  the  portal.  The 
course  of  the  river  cannot  be  followed  far  into  the 
bowels  of  the  mountain.  The  cavern,  at  its  extremity, 
suddenly  turns  to  the  left ;  it  is  no  longer  a  vault,  but 
a  narrow  passage ;  the  roof  sinks  down,  light  disap- 
pears, and  the  sound  of  the  water  announces  that  it  is 
flowing  over  an  uneven  and  interrupted  channel.  From 
the  moment  it  enters  the  cavern  its  course  is  slow  and 
tran^iuil,  and  it  pours  itself  without  noise  into  the 
deep-sunk  mountain-basin,  which,  embedded  among 
precipices,  varies  in  depth  from  twelve  to  twenty-five 
feet. 

But  its  troubles  are  not  yet  past.  Flowing  from  the 
basin  over  the  artificial  embankment  erected  to  raise 
its  waters  to  the  necessary  elevation  for  the  mills,  it 
continues  its  course  northwards  through  the  valley. 
Scarcely,  however,  has  it  reached  the  northern  extre- 
mity, when  the  earth  again  gapes  for  it,  and  swallows 
it  up,  not  through  a  bold  aperture  like  that  which  it 
has  quitted,  but  through  numerous,  small,  insidious 
rents  and  crevices.  It  is  lost  for  nearly  nine  miles, 
pursuing    its    course   under  ground.     It  finally  bursts 


PLANINA.  457 

forth  again  at  Upper  Laybach,  where  the  hilly  coun- 
try sinks  down  into  the  wide  plain  which  surrounds 
Laybach  itself;  and,  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the 
latter,  it  takes  refuge  from  all  its  subterranean  foes  by 
joining  its  waters  to  those  of  the  more  formidable 
Save. 

The  origin  of  this  subterraneous  river  which,  during 
the  thaws  in  the  beginning  of  summer,  and  the  rains  of 
autumn,  pours  forth  from  the  jaws  of  the  cavern  at 
Planina  a  mass  of  water  so  much  superior  to  the  capa- 
city of  the  apertures  which  drink  it  up  at  the  northern 
extremity,  that  the  wiiole  valley,  bounded  as  it  is  on 
both  sides  by  rocky  eminences,  is  converted  into  a  ro- 
mantic lake,  has  not  yet  been  satisfactorily  ascertained. 
The  more  general  opinion  holds  it  to  be  the  Poick,  a 
river  which  throws  itself  into  the  mountain  at  Adels- 
berg,  about  nine  miles  south  of  Planina,  and  at  a  con- 
siderably higher  elevation.  This  is  likewise  the  more 
probable  hypothesis.  The  body  of  water  in  both,  at 
the  time  I  saw^  them,  was  alike,  and  its  somewhat 
muddy  colour  was  the  same.  The  course  of  the  Poick, 
where  it  disappears  in  the  mountain  at  Adelsberg,  is  to 
the  north;  Planina  lies  in  the  same  direction,  and 
much  lower.  According  to  the  other  hypothesis, 
which  has  been  started  of  late  years,  the  Poick,  in- 
stead of  reappearing  through  the  portal  of  Planina, 
and  sending  its  waters  by  the  Save  and  the  Danube  to 
the  Black  Sea,  turns  to  the  westward  beneath  ground, 
reappears,  after  a  subterraneous  course  of  twenty 
miles,  in  the  sources  of  the  Wippach  on  the  western 
confines  of  Carniola,  pours  itself,  under  this  name,  into 
the  Lisonzo,  and  is  thus  finally  lost  in  the  Adriatic. 
The  Poick  being  thus  disposed  of,  the  river  of  Planina 
is  declared  to  be  a  subterraneous  outlet  of  the  neigh- 
bouring lake  of  Zirknitz.  The  hypothesis  is  entirely 
gratuitous.  The  Wippach,  it  is  true,  has  a  similar 
origin ;  but  so  have  the  Idria,  the  Jersero,  and  various 
58 


458  CARNIOLA. 

other  streams  in  every  corner  of  these  calcareous  bills. 
•It  is  said,  that  pieces  of  wood,  and  other  light  bodies, 
which  have  been  thrown  into  the  Poick  at  Adelsberg, 
have  reappeared  in  the  Wippach;  but  such  on  dits 
are  always  of  doubtful  credibility.  It  is  said,  for  in- 
stance, that  a  travelling  cooper  who  had  suffered  ship- 
Avreck  in  the  Striidel,  or  whirlpool,  of  the  Danube, 
above  Vienna,  afterwards  found  part  of  his  equipage 
floating  on  the  lake  of  Neusiedel  in  Hungary,  and  the 
people  of  the  country  still  believe  that  a  subterraneous 
communication  exists  between  the  river  and  the  lake. 
If  the  cavern  of  Planina  be  an  outlet  of  the  lake  of 
Zirknitz,  its  waters  ought  to  dlsaj)pear  when  the  lake 
is  dry;  but  the  waters  of  the  Lay  bach  never  fail  en- 
tirely. It  would  be  desirable  to  know  whether  the 
Poick  and  the  Laybach  swell  at  the  same  time ;  only 
few  observations,  however,  have  been  made,  and  even 
these  are  in  general  too  indefinite  to  be  taken  as  cer- 
tain data. 

The  lake  of  Zirknitz  itself  lies  in  a  higher  ridge  of 
eminences,  about  eight  miles  to  the  eastward  of  Pla- 
nina.    It  is  not  remarkable  either  for  its  size  or  beau- 
ty ;  when   full,  it  is  just  like  any  other  large  piece  of 
water,  and  the   rocks   which  surround  it  are  too  bare 
and  uniform  to  be    picturesque.     Its  celebrity  is  due 
solely  to  the  periodical   flux  and  reflux   of  its   waters 
from    and   into   the   bowels    of   the    mountain.     It    is 
scarcely  worth  visiting,  except  when  the  departure  of 
its  waters  has  left  uncovered  the   orifices  of  the  con- 
duits from  which  they  issue,  and  through  which  they 
disappear;  for   it  is   only  then  that  any  idea  can  be 
formed  of  the  natural  machinery  by  which  its  pheno- 
mena are  produced.     It  is  about  six  English  miles  long, 
and  three  broad  ;  it  is  embedded  among  ridges  of  lime- 
stone, the  predominating  fossil  in  the  mountains  of  this 
part  of  Carniola.     On  the  approach  of  midsummer,  in 
ordinarily  dry  seasons,  when  the  snow  has  disappeared 
from  th©  neighbouring  mountains,  its   waters   begin  to 


LAKE  OF  ZIRKNITZ.  459 

decrease.  If  the  weather  continues  dry,  the  diminu- 
tion proceeds  rapidly,  and  in  a  few  Aveeks  the  whole 
mass  is  drained  off.  A  rank  vegetation  springs  up 
from  the  mud  which  remains  behind;  the  peasants,  if 
the  summer  promises  well,  sow  grass,  or  perhaps  rye, 
on  the  exterior  part  of  the  abandoned  bed.  In  a 
couple  of  months  they  are  mowing  grass  where  the 
dark  waters  of  the  lake  were  formerly  spread  out, 
and  the  sportsman  shoots  game  where,  but  a  short 
time  before,  he  was  fishing  pike.  When  the  lake  is 
entirely  gone,  the  caverns  through  which  it  has  fled 
become  visible,  sinking  into  the  mountain,  some  on  the 
side,  and  others  on  the  bottom  of  its  bed.  They  all 
lie  towards  the  northern  bank;  they  vary  in  size; 
though  some  of  them  can  be  entered,  they  are  not 
practicable  to  any  extent ;  water,  or  the  narrowness 
and  lowness  of  the  passage,  uniformly  arrests  your 
progress.  So  far  as  they  have  been  traced,  they  all 
descend. 

On  the  southern  side,  the  bottom  and  bank  of  the 
lake  yawn  into  a  similar  set  of  apertures,  through 
which,  as  the  rains  set  in  towards  the  end  of  autuam, 
w^ater  begins  to  rise.  It  continues  increasing  in  quan- 
tity, and  gradually  fills  the  deeper  hollows  of  the  de- 
serted bed.  Even  some  of  the  openings  on  the  northern 
side  which  had  assisted  to  drain  the  lake,  now  send  forth 
their  stores  from  beneath  to  fill  it.  As  the  rains  con- 
tinue, the  waters  issue  from  these  apertures  with  such 
impetuosity,  that  pike  are  said  to  have  been  frequently 
taken,  wounded  and  disfigured  in  a  manner  which  could 
only  be  explained  on  the  supposition,  that  the  violence 
of  the  subterraneous  stream  had  dashed  them  to  and 
fro  against  the  rocks  of  the  hidden  passage,  through 
which  it  hurries  them  up  from  deeper  reservoirs  before 
they  emeroje  into  the  lake.  So  soon  as  the  waters 
begin  to  appear,  the  birds  which  had  nestled  \n  the 
long  grass  seek  another  refuge;  the  peasant  removes 
in  haste  what  of  his  hazardous  crop  may  still  remain 


46©  CARNIOLA. 

within  the  margin  of  the  basin ;  and,  within  as  short  a 
time  as  that  in  which  it  had  retired,  the  lake  is  again 
there  in  all  its  former  extent,  and  stocked  with  its 
former  inhabitants. 

The  length  of  time  during  which  it  remains  dry 
depends  entirely  on  the  comparative  dryness  of  the 
season.  The  waters  ran  off  in  the  summer  of  1821, 
returned  tov/ard  the  end  of  November,  and  ran  oif  a 
second  time  in  the  end  of  February  1822,^ot,  indeed, 
an  ordinary  occurrence,  but  perfectly  natural,  because 
no  rain  had  fallen  from  the  beginning  of  January,  and 
the  snow  on  the  higher  mountains  still  continued  to  be 
frozen.  Sometimes,  again,  when  the  summer  is  deci- 
dedly what  may  be  called  a  wet  one,  the  lake  does 
not  retire  at  all ;  all  proofs  that  the  sources  of  its 
waters  are  not  subterranean,  although  the  channels 
which  conduct  them  into  this  basin  are  subterranean. 

The  phenomena  of  this  lake,  therefore,  do  not  seem 
either  to  be  of  very  difficult  explanation,  or  to  deserve 
the  astonishment  with  which  many  travellers,  and  some 
naturalists,  have  regarded  them.  The  whole  ridge  of 
mountains  consists  of  a  very  porous  calcareous  rock 
through  which  the  rain  and  melted  snow  easily  pene- 
trate. It  is  traversed,  likewise',  internally  by  innume- 
rable suites  of  caverns  and  galleries  in  which  the 
waters  unite  themselves  into  streams,  and  pursue  their 
subterraneous  course  till  they  issue  from  the  mountain 
into  some  lower  open  hollow,  as  in  the  valley  of  Pla- 
nina,  or  here  in  the  lake  of  Zirknitz.  The  quantity 
and  ize  of  the  fish,  which  retire  vvith  the  lake  into  the 
caverns  beneath,  and  return  with  the  returning  stream, 
prove  that  there  must  be  capacious  reservoirs  within 
the  bosom  of  the  mountain  in  which  they  can  exist  and 
prosper. 

Where  the  outlets  of  the  lake  finally  discharge  their 
waters  cannot,  of  course,  be  easily  traced,  because  their 
subterraneous  channels  cannot  be  followed ;  but  the 
whole  countrv  from  the  northern  limits  of  Carniola  to 


THE  PROTEUS  ANGUINUS.  461 

the  shores  of  the  Adriatic,  from  the  cavern  of  Planina 
to  the  sources  of  the  Tiinavus,  is  se)  full  of  streams, 
whose  first  appearance  above  ground  clearly  implies  a 
previous  subterranean  course,  thait  there  is  no  difficulty 
in  accounting  for  the  disappearance  of  the  lake.  The 
Jersero  issuing  from  the  cave  of  St.  Cantian,  the  Idria 
bursting  from  the  mountain  not  far  from  the  mines,  the 
Wippach  rising  in  the  same  manner  farther  to  the 
westward,  are,  in  all  likelihood,  outlets  of  the  Zirknitz  ; 
and  what  is  there  improbable  in  the  supposition,  that 
even  the  Timavus  itself  draws  part  of  its  stores  from 
this  alternating  reservoir  ? 

Some  of  these  subterranean  waters  in  this  part  of 
Carniola  are,  so  far  as  I  know,  the  only  European 
abodes  of  that  anomalous  little  creature,  the  Proteus 
anguinus.  Some  living  specimens,  which  I  saw  in  the 
possession  of  a  peasant  in  Adelsberg,  were  about  eight 
inches  long ;  but  they  have  been  found  of  twice  that 
length.  The  body  varies  in  diameter  from  half  an 
inch  to  an  inch,  according  to  the  length  of  the  animal  : 
it  resembles  almost  entirelv  that  of  the  eel ;  it  is 
whitish  below,  and  above  of  a  delicate  flesh  colour. 
The  upper  part  of  the  head  is  more  flattened  than  in 
the  eel,  and  approaches  nearer  to  that  of  a  pigmy 
alligator.  The  gills  protrude  entirely  from  the  head, 
and  sometimes  rise  above  it :  their  colour  is  a  pale  red; 
but,  when  the  animal  is  irritated,  they  become  of  so 
brilliant  a  scarlet  hue,  and  branch  out  into  so  many 
minute  yet  distinct  ramifications,  that  the  creature  has 
exactly  the  same  appearance  as  if  a  tuft  of  young  coral 
were  growing  from  each  side  of  its  head.  It  has  no 
fins,  and  the  members  which  occupy  their  place  consti- 
tute the  most  singular  part  of  its  conformation.  Instead 
of  pectoral  fins,  it  is  furnished  with  two  arms,  or  fore 
legs,  of  a  pale  coloured  membranaceous  substance,  and 
about  two  inches  long.  Nearly  in  the  middle,  they  arc 
divided  by  a  joint,  which  corresponds  exactly  to  the 
elbow  or  knee,   and  the  outer   division  terminates  in 


462  CARNIOLA. 

three  distinct  fingers  or  toes.  The  place  of  the  ven- 
tral fins  is  occupied  bj  another  pair  of  limbs  perfectly 
similar  to  the  former,  excepting  that  they  are  some- 
what shorter,  and  terminate  in  two  toes,  instead  of 
three.  From  these  appendages,  the  animal  is  called, 
in  the  Croatian  dialect  of  the  country,  Zlovishka  riba, 
or.  Human-fish  ;  it  uses  them  in  the  water  as  fins,  with 
great  agility,  and  at  the  bottom,  or  on  dry  land,  it  uses 
them  as  feet. 

The  powers  of  vision  of  the  Proteus  are  still  as 
doubtful  as  those  of  the  mole  long  were.  Some  have 
altogether  denied  that  it  possesses  eyes;  others  take 
for  eyes,  two  points  which  are  just  observable  towards 
the  crown  of  the  head.  The  decided  aversion  which 
the  creature  shows  against  light,  and  the  impatience 
and  agitation  with  which  it  keeps  itself  in  incessant 
motion,  when  brought  out  from  the  shade,  seem  to 
imply  that  it  possesses  organs  susceptible  of  the  action 
of  light.  The  moment  it  is  exposed  to  the  sun,  it 
becomes  restless  and  unhappy;  its  natural  abode  is  in 
thp  waters  of  these  subterranean  caverns,  and  it  tiever 
issues  voluntarily  from  the  impenetrable  darkness  in 
w^hich  alone  it  finds  itself  comfortable.  They  appear 
most  frequently  in  certain  small  streams  which  issue 
from  the  mountain  at  Si?tich,  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Laybach,  being  hurried  forth  from  the  caverns  within 
by  the  force  of  the  stream,  when  the  internal  reser- 
voirs have  been  swollen  by  heavy  rains,  or  a  long  con- 
tinued thaw.  Those  which  I  saw  had  been  taken  in 
the  small  subterranean  lake  which  terminates  the 
Magdalene  grotto,  not  far  from  that  of  Adelsberg. 

In  regard,  at  least,  to  their  mode  of  life,  it  may  be 
dojibted  how  far  the  Protei  have  been  justly  set  down 
as  amphibious.  It  is  seldom  that  the  creature  leaves 
the  water  voluntarily;  and,  even  when  he  does  go 
astray,  it  is  only  to  make  a  brief  and  difficult  prome- 
nade, in  the  darkness  of  night,  a  few  feet  from  the 
edge  of  the  stream.     This   excursion,  short  as  it  is.  is 


ADELSBERG.  463 

generally  fatal  to  him.  His  \vliolc  body  is  covered, 
like  that  of  tiie  ee!,  with  a  viscid  slime,  'o  which  con- 
stant moisture  is  essential;  when  he  lea  es  the  water, 
this  substance  speedily  dries  up,  glues  him  to  the  spot, 
and  he  expires.  From  all  I  could  learn,  I  saw  no  rea- 
son to  believe  that  the  Proteus  possesses  the  faculty  of 
living  and  moving,  out  of  the  wafer,  in  a  higher  degree 
than  the  common  eel,  or  the  flying  fish. 

From  Planina,  till  you  reach,  after  traversing  forty 
miles,  the  brink  of  the  magnificent  barrier  which  over- 
hangs Trieste,  and  surrounds  the  head  of  the  Adriatic, 
you  are  in  general  getting  deeper  and  deeper  into  the 
bare,  barren,  calcareous  mountains.  To  Adelsberg  it 
is  a  dreary  ascent,  with  little  for  the  eye  except  the 
naked  rock.  Few  spots  are  cultivated,  for  the  soil 
does  not  admit  of  cultivation,  and  the  woods,  its  natu- 
ral covering,  have  been  in  a  great  measure  cleared, 
away.  The  population  is  *hin,  poor,  and  ignorant ;  the 
villages  ugly  and  squalid  uut  lull  of  wine-houses;  for, 
besides  the  wines  of  Lower  »Styria,  this  beverage  is 
procured,  both  stronger  and  cheaper,  from  the  south- 
western districts  o?  their  own  countrv. 
•  The  village  of  Adelsberg  stands  at  the  bottom  of  an 
inconsiderable  rocky  eminence.  At  the  western  ex- 
tremity of  the  eminence,  the  rock  gapes  into  two  large 
apertures.  The  one  reaches  nearly  from  its  summit 
to  the  level  of  the  plain,  and  lias  aii  irregular,  jagged, 
cleft-like  shape  ;  the  other  is  rather  more  to  the  east- 
ward, about  fifty  feet  higher  in  the  rock,  and  in  a  much 
more  regular,  vaulted  foim.  The  river  Poick  comes 
winding  along  the  valley  from  the  south,  flows  under 
the  eminence,  reaches  its  western  extremity,  throws 
its  whole  body  into  the  lower  of  the  two  openings, 
which  it  entirely  fills,  and  disappears.  The  higher 
opening  runs  a  short  way  into  the  mountain,  forming  a 
regular  and  spacious  gallery.  The  partition  of  rock 
that  separates  it  from  the  lower  one,  through  which 
the  river  holds  its  course,  is  broken  through  in  several 


464  CARNIOLA. 

places,  and  furnishes,  here  and  there,  a  glimpse  of  the 
dark  waters  fretting  along  in  their  subterranean  chan- 
nel.    But  as  you   advance,   their  murmurin^s  and  the 
distant  gleams  of  day-light  die  away  together,  and  the 
silence  and  darkness  of  ancient   night  reign  all  around. 
The  guides  now  lighted  their  lamps,   and,  in  a  short 
time,  the  distant  sound  of   water  was  again  heard  ;  it 
became   louder  and  louder  ;    the  passage   seemed   to 
widen,  and  at  length  opened  out  into    an  immense   ca- 
vern which  the  eye  could   not   measure,  for  the  lights 
were   altogether  insufiicient   to   penetrate  to  any    dis- 
tance the  darkness   that   was    above,  and  around,  and 
below  ;  they   were  just  sufficient   to    show  where  we 
stood.     It  was  a  ledge  of  rock,  which,  running  across 
the  cavern   like  a   natural    partition,   but  not  rising  to 
the  roof,  divides   it  into  two   caverns.     From  that  on 
the  left  of  the  partition,   on  whose  summit   we  stood, 
rose  amid  the  darkness  the  furious  dashing  of  the  river, 
Avhich  has  thus  far  found   its  way  through   the  moun- 
tain, and,  announcing  by  its  noise    the  obstacles    it  en- 
counters, seems  to  throw  itself  in  despair   against  the 
opposing  partition,    which    threatens     to    prevent   its 
course  into  the  more  ample  division    of  the  cavern  on 
the  right.     On  this  latter  side,  the  rocky  partition  sinks 
down    absolutely    precipitous;  the  cavern,  likew^ise,  is 
much  deeper  than  that  on  the  left,  and  impenetrable 
darkness    broods  over  it.     Leaning  over  the  precipice, 
the  ear,  after  it  has  become  accustomed  to  the  raging 
of  the  stream  on  the    other  side,  hears  that  its  waters 
far  below  have  pierced  the  partition,  and  made  their 
way  into  the  deeper  and  more    ample  hall  of  the  ca- 
vern.    It  is,  in  fact,  a  natural  bridge.    The  impression, 
however,   on  this  side  is  much  more  striking;  for  the 
river  is  heard  eddying  along  with  that  dull,  heavy,  and 
indistinct  sound   which,    particularly  in  such   circum- 
stances, among  subterranean  precipices,  and  in  subter- 
ranean darkness,  always  gives  the  idea  of  great  depth. 
The  guides  lighted  a  few  bundles  of  straw,  and  threw 


ADELSBERG.  465 

them  into  the  abyss.  They  gleamed  faintly,  as  they 
descended,  on  the  projecting  points  of  the  rock  ;  bla- 
zed for  a  lew  seconds  on  the  surface  of  the  water, 
showing  its  slow  heavy  motion;  and  illummatlng,  througli 
a  small  circle,  the  darkness  of  the  cavern,  lelt  its 
gloom,  by  tiieir  extinction,  more  oppressive  and  imj)e- 
nefrable. 

"  From  this  spot,"  says  Sartori,  '*  it  is  not  allowed 
to  the  boldest  of  mortals  to  proceed  farther  ;"  and  he 
said  so,  because,  towards  the  greater  division  of  the 
cavern  into  which  the  river  has  thus  forced  its  way, 
the  partition  is  too  precipitous  to  admit  of  descent.  But 
mortals  not  at  all  bold  now  go  a  great  deal  farther. 
Towards  the  smaller  division,  the  partition  is  not  so 
precipitous,  and  the  cavern  itself  is  not  so  deep.  A 
ilight  of  steps  was  cut  out  on  this  side,  down  to  the  bot- 
tom. The  partition  itself  was  then  pierced  in  the  di- 
rection of  the  greater  cavern.  When  the  workmen 
had  got  through  it,  they  found  themselves  still  conside- 
rably above  the  bottom  of  the  greater,  but  the  rocky 
wall  was  now  more  sloping,  and,  by  hcAvlng  in  it  a  flight 
of  steps,  the  bottom  was  reached  in  safety.  The  great 
object  was  to  know  what  became  of  the  river.  We 
had  not  advanced  many  yards  along  the  rocky  floor, 
which  owes  much  of  its  comparative  smoothness  to  art, 
when  the  river  was  again  heard  in  front,  and  the  lights 
of  the  guides  glimmered  on  its  waters.  It  flows  right 
across  the  cavern  ;  it  has  lost  its  noise  and  rapidity  ; 
it  eddies  slowly  along,  in  a  well  defined  bed,  and  ha- 
ving reached  the  opposite  wall  of  this  immense  vault, 
the  solid  mountain  itself,  it  again  dives  into  the  bowels 
of  the  earth,  its  course  can  be  followed  no  farther, 
and  it  is  still  doubtful  whether,  or  where,  it  again  ap- 
pears on  earth. 

This,  imposing  as  it  is,  is  but  the  vestibule  to  the  most 
magnificent  of  all  the  temples  which  nature  has  built 
for  herself  in  the  regions  of  night.  A  slight  wooden 
l)ridge  leads    across  the   river,    and   after  advancing  a 

r)9 


466  CARNIOLA. 

little  way  the  terminating  wall  of  the  cavern  opposes 
you.  This  was  always  held  to  be  the  7ie  plus  ultra. 
Bill,  about  five  years  ago,  some  young  fellow  took  it 
into  his  head  to  try,  with  the  help  of  his  companions, 
how  far  he  could  clamber  up  the  wall  by  means  of 
the  projecting  points  of  rock.  When  he  had  mounted 
about  forty  feet,  he  found  that  the  wall  terminated, 
and  a  spacious  opening  intervened  between  its  top, and* 
the  roof  of  the  cavern  which  was  still  far  above.  A 
flight  of  steps  was  immediately  hewn  in  the  rock,  and 
the  aperture  being  explored,  vyas  found  to  be  the  en- 
trance to  a  long  succession  of  the  most  gigantic  stalac- 
tite caverns  that  imagination  can  conceive. 

From  a  large  rugged,  and  unequal  grotto,  they 
branch  off  in  two  suites.  That  to  the  left  is  the  more 
extensive,  and  ample,  and  majestic;  that  to  the  right, 
though  smaller,  is  ricfier  in  varied  and  fantastic  forms. 
Neither  the  one  nor  the  other  ccuisists  merely  of  a  sin- 
gle cavern,  but  a  succession  of  them,  all  different  in 
size,  and  form,  and  ornament,  connected  by  passages 
v/hich  are  sometimes  low  and  bare,  sometimes  spacious 
and  lofty,  supported  by  pillars  and  fretted  with  corni- 
ces of  the  purest  stalactite.  I(  would  be  in  vain  to  at- 
tempt to  describe  the  magnificence  and  variety  of  this 
natural  architecture.  The  columns  are  sometimes  uni- 
form in  their  mass,  and  singularly  placed  ;  sometimes 
they  are  so  regularly  arranged,  and  consist  of  smaller 
pillars  so  nicely  clustered  togetlier,  that  one  believes 
he  is  walkiiig  up  the  nave  of  a  Gothic  cathedral.  Ma- 
ny of  these  columns,  which  are  entirely  insulated,  have 
a  diameter  of  three,  four,  and  even  five  feet.  Fre- 
quently the  pillar  is  interrupted  as  it  were  in  the  mid- 
dle, losing  its  columnar  form,  and  twisting,  dividing,  or 
spreading  itself  out  into  innumerable  shapes.  Some- 
times it  dilates  into  a  broad  thin  plate,  almost  transpa- 
rent in  the  light  of  a  lamp  ;  sometimes  this  plate  curves 
itself  round  in  a  circular  form  ;  sometimes  the  descend- 
ing  part   tapers   to  a  point,  which  rests  on  the  broad 


ADELSBERGr.  467 

surface  of  the  ascending  stalagmlfe.  The  walls  are 
entirely  coated  with  the  same  substance,  and,  in  the 
smaller  grottoes,  it  is  so  pure,  that  travellers  have  co- 
vered it  with  names  written  in  pencil,  some  of  which 
have  already  resisted  the  moisture  five  or  six  years. 
The  other  division  is  more  spacious,  and  extends  much 
farther.  The  caverns  which  compose  it  are  wider  and 
loftier,  but  not  so  beautifully  adorned  as  in  the  other. 
The  enormous  clustered  columns  of  stalactite  that  seem 
to  support  the  everlasting  roof  from  which  they  have 
only  originated,  often  tower  to  such  a  height,  that  the 
lights  do  not  enable  you  to  discover  their  summit ;  but, 
though  infinitely  majestic,  they  are  rougher,  darker, 
and  more  shapeless  than  in  the  smaller  suite.  The 
farther  you  advance,  the  elevations  become  bolder,  the 
columns  more  massive,  and  the  forms  more  diversified, 
till,  after  running  about  six  miles  into  the  earth,  this 
scene  of  wonderment  terminates  with  the  element  with 
which  it  began,  water.  A  small  subterraneous  lake, 
deep,  clear,  cold,  and  dead-still,  prevents  all  farther 
progress.  It  has  not  been  passed ;  it  would  therefore 
be  too  much  to  say  that  nothing  lies  beyond. 

Throughout  these  caverns  not  a  sound  is  heard,  ex- 
cept the  occasional  plashmg  of  the  dew  drop  from  a 
half  formed  pillar.  No  living  thing,  no  trace  of  vege- 
tation enlivens  the  cold  rock,  or  the  pale  freezing  sta- 
lactites. A  solitary  bat,  fast  asleep  on  a  brittle  white 
pinnacle,  was  the  only  inhabitant  of  this  gorgeous  pa-^ 
lace.  When  I  took  him  from  his  resting  place,  he  ut- 
tered a  chirping,  plaintive  sound,  as  if  murmuring  that 
our  lights  had  disturbed  his  repose,  or  that  human  feet 
should  intrude  into  the  dark  and  silent  sanctuary  of  his 
race.  When  replaced  on  his  pinnacle,  he  folded  up 
his  wings,  ceased  to  chirp  and  murmur,  and,  in  a  mo- 
ment, was  as  sound  asleep  as  ever. 

Yet  these  abodes  are  not  always  so  still  and  desert- 
ed. About  the  middle  of  the  more  extensive  of  the 
two  ranges,  the  passage  which,  though  not  low,  hasfoar 


468  CARNIOLA. 

a  while  been  rough  and  confined,  opens  info  one  of  the 
most  spacious  and  regular  of  all  the  caverns.  It  is 
oval,  about  sixty  feet  long,  and  forty  broad  ;  the  walls 
rise  in  a  more  regularly  vaulted  form  than  in  any  of 
the  others  ;  the  roof  was  beyond  the  eye.  The  walls 
are  coated  with  stalactite  ;  but,  excepting  this,  nature 
has  been  very  sparing  of  her  ornaments.  The  floor 
has  been  made  perfectly  smooth.  In  addition  to 
the  stone  seats  which  the  rock  itself  supplies,  wooden 
benches  have  been  disposed  round  the  circumference, 
as  well  as  a  few  rustic  chandeliers,  formed  of  a  wooden 
cross,  fixed  horizontally  on  the  top  of  a  pole.  Once 
a-year,  on  the  festival  of  their  patron  saint,  the  pea- 
santry of  Adelsberg  and  the  neighbourhood  assemble 
in  this  cavern  to  a  ball.  Here,  many  hundred  feet  be- 
neath the  surface  of  the  earth,  and  a  mile  from  the 
light  of  day,  the  rude  music  of  the  Carniolian  resounds 
through  more  magnificent  halls  than  were  ever  built 
for  monarchs.  The  flame  of  the  uncouth  chandeliers 
is  reflected  from  the  stalactite  walls  in  a  blaze  of  ever- 
changing  light,  and,  amid  its  dancing  refulgence,  the 
village  swains,  and  village  beauties,  wheel  round  in  the 
waltz,  as  if  the  dreams  of  the  Rosicrucians  had  at 
length  found  their  fulfilment,  and  Gnomes  and  Kobolds 
really  lived  and  revelled  in  the  bowels  of  our  globe. 

At  Prewald,  the  next  stage,  the  road  winds  up  a 
very  steep  ascent,  from  the  summit  of  which  the  coun- 
try stretches  southward,  at  nearly  one  uniform  eleva- 
tion, for  twenty  miles,  till  it  sinks  down  almost  precipi- 
tously on  Trieste  and  the  Adriatic.  This  broad  plat- 
form, called  the  Karst,  presents  nothing  but  a  desolate 
extent  of  rock  and  stones.  The  main  surface  of  the 
mountain  is  not  only  covered  with  innumerable  frag- 
ments of  its  own  mass,  but  is  itself  scooped  out  into 
round  hollows,  or  rather  holes,  resembling  exactly 
rocks  which  have  been  long  washed  and  worn  by  the 
sea.  Towards  its  southern  extremity,  a  more  kindly 
soil  gradually  re-appears,  and  vegetation  again  puts 


THE  KARST.  469 

forth  her  powers,  and  the  abrupt  slope,  which  it  final- 
ly presents  to  the  sea,  is  covered  with  gardens,  and 
studded  with  villas.  Trieste  lies  below,  backed  by  the 
mountains  of  l5tria,  and,  in  front,  the  Adriatic  stretches 
out  its  boundless  expanse.  Trieste  is  a  very  hand- 
somely built  town,  and  the  best  paved  town  on  the 
Continent.  The  population  and  language  are  extreme- 
ly mixed  ;  German,  Italian,  and  Modern  Greek,  are 
heard  every  where.  In  general,  however,  a  traveller 
does  not  find  much  in  Trieste  to  detain  him,  and  he 
hastens  to  the  steam-boat,  which  bears  him  across  the 
Adriatic  during  the  night,  and  presents  to  him,  in  the 
morning,  the  magnificent  spectacle  of  the  towers  and 
palaces  of  Venice,  gradually  emerging  from  the  misty 
sea,  as  the  sun  slowly  rises  over  the  mountainous  ridges 
of  Dalmatia.  '   ^  ^,W 


THE    END. 


Jh' 


